


Love On The Brain

by ashleyfanfic



Series: Love On The Brain [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, Hope, Incest, Loss, Love, Night King - Freeform, Pregnancy, Season 07 episode 07 spoilers, Sex, War, battles, dragon fights, major ships - Freeform, minor ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2018-12-22 03:10:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 85
Words: 289,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11958477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyfanfic/pseuds/ashleyfanfic
Summary: Amidst war, dissension in the ranks, people still manage to find happiness in so much despair.Read the relationships tags FIRST.





	1. Jon I

**Author's Note:**

> It's a crappy summary, but I don't know where it will end, but I hope you hang on with me. This is unbetaed so if the grammar is horrible, I apologize! Jon, Daenerys, Sansa, Jaime, Gendry, and Arya are my POVs coming soon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations of paternity, bonding with the queen and her dragons, and talk of "surrendering".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a few days ago I was contacted by thefuzzyaya asking if she could do artwork based off of a line in this chapter. "His hands captured her elbows and he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Leave you to be the one to make all of this seem less immediate.” Let me say that I was honored because I've been writing fanfiction for years and no one had ever wanted to draw anything based off of what I had written. But then she sent me the first sketch and I was immediately in love. I couldn't imagine anything being more beautiful than that. I was wrong. I admit it. When I got this picture this morning, I teared up. It is beyond my understanding how she managed to capture this moment so well. Everything in it is perfect. I couldn't be happier and more in love with this picture! Please, go to Tumblr and look at her beautiful work. thefuzzyaya is an amazing artist and deserves all the praise in the world. I can't put into words what this means to me.

 

**JON**

 

Jon braced himself on the wall that overlooked the now full grounds outside of Winterfell. Snow fell on the newly erected tents and fires could be seen along the pathways. The Dothraki and Unsullied had settled in, and as far as he could tell, only Rhaegal was flying overhead. Since the loss of his brother, Visceron, even Daenerys had a difficult time bringing him to rest.  

 

But even as they seemed to finally be on a proper footing, his brother had all but yanked the stone from beneath his feet. Not his brother. Cousin. He hadn’t seen the queen since she’d heard the confession and, to be truthful, he didn’t know what he would say to her when they saw one another.  

 

Bran’s delivery of the news couldn’t have been more shocking, but the flat affect of his voice as he told them, with, of all people, Samwell Tarly to back up the news. Bran had changed, no longer the little boy who wanted their father’s praise, but now an all-seeing being able to tell even the most private of moments between people. He knew of his time with Ygritte and even his conversation with Stannis to make him a full-fledged Stark but also informed Dany that he witnessed her putting her husband out of his misery with a pillow. The queen had been taken aback by this declaration, as had Jon. He had known she’d lost a husband, he didn’t know of the circumstance.  

 

He didn’t know what she would do now that she had heard that he, the bastard of Winterfell, was actually the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. His hands actually shook when he considered it. As he pieced in moments from his past, questions he had asked his father, or even Ser Rodderick, no one ever gave him a satisfactory answer. In fact, his father always avoided the discussion. He had always assumed it was to not upset Caitlyn, now he knew that it was because of a promise to his dying sister, and to protect him. He hung his head and stared at the snow, actually wishing for the times he believed that he hadn’t been wanted because he was a bastard. It was easier to be a Snow. It was easier to believe that you were unwanted.  

 

Bran had destroyed all such illusions.  

 

Daenerys was technically his aunt, which was its own set of problems. The truth was, cousins often married. Even the Targaryen’s were notorious for marrying siblings in order to keep the lines pure. That’s where the madness had come from, he thought, but now, faced with all he knew, he felt dizzy and even more out of place than usual.

 

“Your home is beautiful.” The sound of her voice actually soothed him a bit. He glanced to his right and could see her, wrapped in the black fur cloak that Sansa had made for her. There were small traces of red that lay within the fur, and he had to hand it to his sister...cousin: she did fine work.

 

“Thank you,” he said as he watched Rhaegal finally settle near a sleeping Drogon. “He’s lost without his brother.”

 

She nodded. “I felt that way for a bit after Viserys sold me to the Khal. I felt like he had betrayed me, simply for his own ambition.”

 

“Hadn’t he?”

 

She looked over at him, her violet eyes staring into his grey ones. “Yes. I suppose he had. Had he not, however, I don’t think I would be standing here, today.” He frowned and looked back out at the two dragons. “Where would you be, Jon, had your father told you all that you learned today? Would you even be alive? Had Robert Baratheon received the smallest hint that you weren’t who Ned Stark said you were...would you have lived?”

 

“No,” he answered. “Father always said that it was Robert’s mission to rid the world of Targaryens.”

 

She smiled a bit at him. “I’m very glad he failed. On both of our accounts.”

 

He straightened and then faced her fully. “This makes you my aunt,” he declared.

 

She shrugged a shoulder. “Obviously that bothers you.”

 

He was still unsure how he felt about it.  He certainly didn’t feel like she was any relation to him.  It did nothing to diminish the longing he felt for her. The love that had been blossoming between them since their time on the ship. If he was honest, it was before that. The cave, maybe? “It doesn’t you?” He needed to know how she felt. He needed to know if he was alone in his feelings, and if all of this was some sick plot by the Gods to dangling something so sweet in front of him only to rip it away.

 

She shook her head. “I know you as Jon Snow, King of the North, and defier of my will,” she responded. “The fact that you are now a long-lost nephew has little weight with me.” He sighed and looked to the ground. “You feel differently? Do you want me less?”

 

His head shot up and looked at her, his eyes fixated to hers. “No.”

 

She stepped forward and pressed her hand over his heart. “I know you, Jon. Whether your name is Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen, it changes nothing in how I feel for you. The man in front of me leads his people with a single-minded determination that I adore. A name change does not change that for me.”

 

His hands captured her elbows and he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “Leave you to be the one to make all of this seem less immediate.”

 

She burrowed her face into his neck and her arms moved to his back beneath his cloak.  “Maybe what you should be considering is how you and I were on opposite sides of the world, separated by politics, marriages, vows, and a great sea. Yet, here we stand on the walls of Winterfell staring out at the army to take on the coming night. Of all the people that you could have sent to me in your place,” she paused, “a raven, a messenger, something in place of you; you rowed to my shores and openly defied me in my own throne room,” she said before she pulled her head away and looked up at him.  “You even used family history against me. We were meant to find one another. We were meant to unite against whatever is coming for us. We were meant to do it together,” she whispered.

 

He leaned down and captured her lips with his, pulling her to him tighter. She whimpered when he released her. “You’re right,” he answered.

 

“I do like it when you agree with me,” she said before she leaned up and kissed him briefly.  “I think I like it better, though, when we argue.”  He rubbed his nose against hers and then pulled away from her as Rhaegal let out a screech. Dany turned to the wall and watched him thrash on the ground, and then go still again. “Come with me to settle him?” she questioned.

 

“Should I bring guards?”

 

She shook her head. “Why do I need them when I have you?”

 

He escorted her down the stairs and out of the doors of the keep, nodding to soldiers as they passed. As they made their way over to the dragons, Rhaegal crawled on his belly closer to them, Drogon only lifting his head at their approach and then settling down once more. She moved her fingers over the scales of his snout and over his brow, Rhaegal preening under her caress. “There now,” she whispered. “I’m here.” She took a seat on the snow, and the large dragon dropped his head beside her, allowing her to coax him to sleep with her voice and soft caress.  Jon continued to look around, his eyes sharp for anyone who would harm her, but he felt she was probably safer here than anywhere else. The dragons would die before they allowed anything to happen to her. Rhaegal nudged him with his tail and huffed out smoke at the ground beside Dany. “I believe he’s insisting that you sit.”

 

“It’s safer if I stand.”

 

The dragon snarled and Dany looked up at him, a smile playing at her lips. “You don’t tell a dragon ‘no’.”

 

He noticed that Rhaegal was staring directly at him, and until he relented, he didn’t lower his head back to Dany. He felt something behind him and turned to see that it was Rhaegal’s tail as the large dragon seemed to be curling around them.  “He mourns,” Jon said softly, feeling Dany move closer to him.  

 

“He lost his brother,” she whispered. “I think both of us can understand the pain that comes with that.”

 

He cautiously moved his hand to Rhaegal’s snout and the dragon allowed him to pet him too, though it was short. “Drogon doesn’t seem...”

 

“Drogon wasn’t locked away with them. He’s...smart. Smarter than some people. He knew I was going to imprison them, and he left. Rhaegal and Viscerion were locked away together for a long time. They were as close as any two brothers.”

 

“And you’re their mother.”

 

“Mother of Dragons,” she said as she looked over at him. “Never of a man.”

 

He frowned. “I’m sorry.”

 

She shook her head. “I have the three most powerful sons in all of history. Don’t pity me.” The words were without malice but instead were wistful. He could tell when Rhaegal was finally asleep as the dragon seemed to almost roll onto his side and Dany smiled over at Jon who returned it.  

 

“I’m not trying to be insulting, but they remind me of wolves.”

 

She stood and brushed the snow from her backside and then offered a hand out to Jon.  “I take no insult to that knowing how much you love wolves.”  Her breath mingled with his and he was struck once more by her beauty. The sun had set and left out in the darkness, the moonlight shining on her skin, she looked like an ethereal beauty, something not of this world, or too good for it.

 

“Let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

 

She nodded and looped her arm through his. “I think I’d like to have a bath,” she declared as she glanced at Jon.

 

“I’ll make sure you have warm water,” he responded as they walked back through the gates which were closed behind them.

 

“Is that all?”

 

Jon looked up at the castle, trying to control what appeared to be uncontrollable.  His lust for her was something that seemed to rage like one of Drogon’s fires, but they were in Winterfell, and he knew from experience that voices sometimes carried over the thick stone. “What else would you like, your grace?”

 

She stopped outside the door to the tower and chewed on her bottom lip. “I’d like to negotiate the terms of your surrender.”

 

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “My surrender?”

 

“Yes.  It seems only fitting that you surrender to me.”

 

“Fitting how?” he questioned, aghast at the suggestion.

 

She smiled but said nothing.  The comment hung heavily between them and his brow was now furrowed as he stared at her. Suddenly, realization struck him and he felt his face flush. “Oh.”

  
“Indeed.”

 

He sighed. “You’ll still need hot water to be drawn,” he answered. “For my surrender.”

 

“I’ll leave that to your capable hands,” she said as she turned and entered the tower.  He found a servant and requested for water to be taken to the queen’s chamber, and waited until the last bit had been taken into her room before he raced up the stairs.  


	2. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime rides North and gets some company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter here. Trying to get everyone where I need them to be. :)

  


**_JAIME_ **

 

The snow continued to fall, making the road harder and harder to navigate.  The swirl of it around him gave him pause.  He stopped for a moment, trying to get a better view of the road ahead of him and he stopped at seeing what looked to be Lannister forces standing along the road.  A panic filled him as he wondered if Cersei really would have him killed.  She had every opportunity when he was in front her.  All it would have taken was a word from her and the Mountain would have struck him down.  Maybe she couldn’t see him killed in front of her, despite her anger and feelings of betrayal.  He was the one who should feel betrayed.  

 

He stopped and suddenly a figure in dark gray moved onto the path and he was actually terrified for a moment that she had sent Bronn to kill him.  

 

“Right fucking mess you’ve got yourself in,” Bronn said to him, his hand on the hilt of his sword.

 

Jaime nodded.  “Seems to be the pattern.”

 

“I was sent to kill you.  Promised a castle, again.  No high-born beauty this time.”

 

Jaime frowned as he looked at his one-time partner in battle.  “So, am I actually allowed to get off my horse to fight for my life or are you not even going to give me the chance?”

 

“We both know I can take you on or off a horse.”  He looked back at the men standing behind him and frowned.  “But I’m not actually going to kill you.  See, these lads were in the dragon pit and saw whatever that thing was.  They’re insistent that those things never make it south to King’s Landing and their families.  They’re here to fight alongside you.”

 

Jaime furrowed his brow, amazed at the cutthroat in front of him.  “And you?”

 

“I told you.  No one gets to kill you but me, so I figure I should go with you on this stupid fucking mission you’ve assigned to yourself.  You promised me a woman.”

 

“I don’t know that I’ll be able to keep that promise,” he answered honestly, wondering if that would cause Bronn to change his mind about sparing his life.

 

“No, but your brother would,” he said with a slight smile.  “I think I’ll take my chances with the two Lannisters who don’t already see me as a traitor.” Bronn moved over to his horse and climbed on.  “Long way to Winterfell.  That’s the direction the Dothraki were heading from Dragonstone, at least.”

 

“That’s where we need to go.  We'll need to inform them that Cersei isn't keeping her word.”

 

"Don't know that any of them will be surprised by that information," Bronn said, reminding Jaime once more that everyone else saw his sister for exactly who she was. Jaime was the only one who had functioned under the illusion that there might be some part of Cersei that could see reason.  Unfortunately, Jaime had learned that lesson the hard way. Bronn followed alongside him as the rest of the men circled around behind them.  “What are the chances we actually make it out of this alive?”

 

“Not good,” Jaime remembered all too clearly the monster that had come screaming out of that box towards Cersei.  It was one of the most terrifying things he'd ever seen in his life. The dead were alive and their sole purpose was destruction.  Why couldn't Cersei see that nothing mattered but this war?  If they lost here, there would be nothing to protect her, not even the Mountain.  Their child would never be born, their legacy truly dead. It seemed such a waste to simply take the Gold Company and use them to reclaim lands.  Land didn't matter.  Houses and loyalty didn't matter.  In some ways, though he thought it was the most ridiculous thing he could do, he respected Jon Snow for being a man of his word, even though everything hung on him telling a simple lie. No one had ever questioned Jon Snow's honor.  He envied him for that. The irony of envying a bastard was not lost on him.  

 

Bronn sighed and leaned back on his saddle.  “Wonderful.  There’s a nice brothel in Wintertown.  There's that, at least.”

 

Jaime smiled and then it left his face.  He’d just left behind the woman he loved and his child to fight for a war she didn’t believe in.  “How far ahead of us are the Dothraki?”

 

“A day and a half,” Bronn answered.

Jaime nodded, wondering how long Bronn had been waiting for him and if Cersei had known the entire time that he would leave her.  He didn't know her anymore, that was for sure.  He hadn't always been a man of his word, but something had changed over the last few years.  Something in him wanted to be a man of his word, finally.  He'd always been that way with his family, but too many people saw him as the Kingslayer and nothing else. He hoped, if nothing else, that he could make others see that there was one Lannister who kept his word, despite the danger he was now faced with. “Let’s keep it that way.”

 

Bronn nodded.  “I agree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful feedback on my first chapter. Ghost is coming, I assure all of you. In retrospect, this should have been my first chapter, but can't fix that now.


	3. Sansa I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night chat between sisters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those asking, yes, JonxDany is coming next chapter. (there was a joke to be made there, but I stopped myself!) But as I said in the previous chapter's notes, these first couple of chapters are simply to get everyone where I need them to be.

  


**SANSA**

 

Since Bran had informed all of them about Jon’s true parentage, it was the one thought which had consumed Sansa’s mind. Though it was earth shattering news, especially to Jon who had left the room quickly, and even to Daenerys Targaryen who appeared to be in a state of shock, Sansa thought that much of it made sense. She’d been replaying scenes over from her childhood, how they would ask about their Aunt Lyanna and their father would get a strange look in his eye and avoid the conversation. They had always assumed that the loss was something that he wasn’t able to reconcile in his mind, everything that had happened, the war, all of it, had been due to his sister being taken.

 

But now, knowing what they knew, Sansa realized that her father had taken the secret of Jon with him to his grave. She felt for her brother. And she did still think of him that way. He rode south to Winterfell to help take back their home. He’d nearly lost in the effort had it not been for the Knights of the Vale, but he had ridden south, taken up arms against Ramsey, and ultimately allowed her to kill him. It always brought a sense of peace to Sansa to remember how Ramsey had screamed when his dogs had finally bitten into him. When she would have memories of the torture she suffered at his hands, she would take a breath and remember the fear on his face as that great hound stood in front of him. It was the first time she had ever seen him so unsettled.  

 

As she sat in the family solar, she was confronted with the fact that Jon was named King of the North because he was a Stark. She supposed that he still was a Stark. But he was also a Targaryen. She wondered if the Northron Lords would still hold him as their king. She knew that it was pointless to even wonder. Jon had bent the knee to Daenerys. He was loyal to her, obviously. She’d only seen them together for a few moments, but even she could see that there was nothing innocent in how they looked at one another. If Jon was trying to hide how he felt, he was doing a lousy job at it. The same could be said for the queen.

 

Sansa looked at the stack of scrolls in front of her and pondered the implications that Jon was the son of Rhaegar and Lyanna. He was the true heir to the Iron Throne, but Jon lacked any sort of ambition to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Anyone, at this point, was better than Cersei. Tyrion had informed her that Cersei had planned to march her armies north to help with the fight. She’d never known her former husband to believe in his sister, she didn’t know why he did now. She thought of it as if she was Cersei. There was no reason to help them. She fully expected it all to be a lie. It would be just like her to tell everyone to expect help only to send her forces to kill them in the dark. _The Lannisters send their regards_.  

 

She felt the tears at hearing Bran speak those words. When he had explained the purpose of them, when Roose Bolton had killed her brother, Robb, she felt a chill move down her spine. Lannisters had caused so much death and destruction in this world, and the worst one was currently calling herself queen.  

 

“You’re crying,” Arya said as she moved into the room with her sister and sat beside her. Sansa took a shaky breath and tried to control her emotions, especially in front of someone like her sister who could clearly read her.  

 

“Thinking about Robb and Mother.”

 

Arya frowned and sat across the table from Sansa. Her sister was unreadable and she kept herself so closed off from everyone. The first real smile she’d seen from the girl had been when Jon had arrived. She had been right, Jon was thrilled to see her. Hugged her, swung her around, his normally stoic countenance replaced by a wide smile she didn’t know he was capable. She ached a bit knowing that she would never have that sort of relationship with any of her siblings.  

 

Her eyes met the gray of her sister and Arya looked at her hands. “I was there,” she whispered. “The Hound was taking me to the Twins to sell me to Robb. I escaped from him and watched as the Freys came out and began butchering Robb’s men. Greywind.” She shook her head and it was sorrow she heard in her sister’s voice. “I was going to run in, but the Hound stopped me, took me away.” Her voice shook as she said the next part. “What they did to his body...I killed them. The ones that hurt our family. All the Freys,” she told Sansa. Though she knew she should be appalled that her sister admitted to the mass murder that took place at the Twins, she was relieved. Someone had taken revenge against them for their betrayal.

 

“Did they suffer?” Sansa asked, her voice low.

 

“All of them,” she responded. It was one of the few times she hadn’t been afraid of Arya.  

 

Sansa leaned back in her chair and gave a simple nod. “Good.”

 

Arya looked at the dark window and heaved a sigh. “About what Bran told us. About Jon. How do you feel about that?”

 

Sansa took a deep breath and shifted in her seat. “Are we playing the game of faces or are you asking me as my sister?”

 

“I hardly feel like there’s a difference anymore. But fine, I’m asking as your sister.”

 

“Jon’s the true heir to the Iron Throne,” she said after a moment of silence. “The Seven Kingdoms are his to claim, not Daenerys Targaryen. His. He could be the ruler that this world needs.”

 

“Do you think Daenerys would allow him to claim it?”

 

At that, she wasn’t sure. She knew there was something between him and the dragon queen, but she didn’t know how deep it ran. Sansa stood, walked to the window and looked out at the dark sky, snow falling to the ground below. “She certainly has the army to oppose him if she desired.”

 

“I think she desires Jon. That changes things,” Arya answered.

 

Sansa turned to Arya, a smirk on her face. “You caught that, too?”

 

Arya chuckled. “They were eye fucking each other in front of everyone. Yes, I caught it.”

 

She shook her head at Arya’s statement. “Do you have to say things like that?”

 

She nodded. “Yes. It irritates you when I don’t act or speak like a lady.”

 

“And you must irritate your sister?”

 

“One of the few joys I still get out of life,” Arya answered with a smile. But the conversation died away and Sansa watched as Arya stared into the fire. Her sister’s expression was one deep thought. She still didn’t know the girl in front of her. She wasn’t a girl any longer, Sansa chided herself. She was a grown woman and an accomplished killer. To think that weeks ago she even contemplated that Arya wanted anything to do with being a Lady of Winterfell. All she really wanted was to fight.

 

“They’re lucky,” Sansa said finally, referring to Jon and Daenerys. “As you said, women so rarely get to choose what we are allowed to do in life. I feel like Daenerys can do whatever she pleases.”

“And that seems to be Jon,” she said with a smirk. “He’s still our brother,” Arya said calmly, but Sansa knew she was telling her how she should feel about Bran’s revelation. “His name doesn’t change who he is to us.”

 

“No, it doesn’t. He’s still Jon.  Could you imagine calling him Aegon?” Sansa said with a roll of her eyes and moved back to her chair. “I think he’d rather eat his boots.”

 

Arya chuckled at that. “Probably. I know why Father did what he did.” Arya looked up at Sansa and she was startled by Arya’s declaration.  “Imagine finding out that the entire war that you fought in, the war that caused you to lose your brother and your father, was built on a lie.  Lyanna left with Rhaegar. She loved him. She couldn’t have told anyone about it. They would never have allowed her to leave.”

 

“She was reckless,” Sansa answered.

 

“Love makes people reckless,” Arya answered and heaved a sigh. “Love makes people do and say stupid things because it clouds your mind.”

 

Sansa eyed Arya as she stared into the fire. “Had much experience with love?”

 

Arya looked at her from the corner of her eye. “Not since I was a girl.” She shook her head. “I hardly remember what that time was like. Constantly on the run, not knowing who I was going to be or who was going to try to sell me back to my family first. Would I even make it to them?”

 

“Who was he?” Sansa asked, curious about this person that her normally staid sister loved.  

 

Arya turned back to the fire. “A stupid bull,” she shook her head. “I wanted him to come with me to Robb. I wanted him to be my family,” she said sadly. “He turned me down, chose to stay with the Brotherhood, and then they sold him to a red witch.” Sansa was surprised by the shift in Arya’s tone from wistful to cold in the span of a simple word. “Anyway, he’s probably dead now.”

 

“What was his name?”

 

Arya glanced at her sister and sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

 

“It does to you,” Sansa said softly. A part of her was so thankful to have this look into Arya. She kept herself so closed off, so off limits to everyone around her. To learn that Arya had loved someone gave her a bit of hope. She was convinced that Arya felt next to nothing anymore. But now she could see that her sister still held onto the memory of a boy that she believed to be dead.  

 

The brown haired girl pulled her knees to her chest as she stared at the fire. “You’re right. It does to me. I thought I was beyond that.”

 

“You still feel things, Arya. That’s not bad.”

 

“It is if you’re a killer,” she said as she looked at Sansa and she nearly shivered. “Feelings are a weakness.”  Sansa nodded and stared into the flames herself, realizing that she was right. Feelings, emotions could all be used against you. If Lord Baelish had taught her anything that was it.  Arya stood then and gripped her shoulder as she passed. “Good night, Sansa.”

 

“Good night, Arya.”


	4. Daenerys I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys gets alone time with Jon, a talk about the man of her thoughts with her friend, and discussion of what Jon's true lineage means to Daenerys and someone finally makes it to Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the sexy time everyone has been requesting for three chapters! I hope it lives up to expectation. No Ghost in this chapter, but I promise I have something planned for him.

**DAENERYS**

 

Her attendant’s left her after the ornate braids had been undone and she was left with nothing but her robe. The bath had been filled and the steam from the hot water rose into the air. She ran her fingers through her hair once, waiting for Jon to arrive. She smiled to herself as she thought about him, amazed at how earnest he was in almost everything he did. Her heart fluttered a bit as she thought of the way his hands felt on her skin, causing her to shiver even as she stood in front of the vanity.

 

The door behind her opened and she turned to see that it was Jon. He latched the door behind him as she stood and made her way to him. Her hands grasped the belt at his hips and brought his body to hers. He leaned down and kissed her, his hands cupping her face, the leather of his gloves a stark contrast to the softness of his lips. His clothes still held the chill of the winter outside, and she longed to warm him. She broke the kiss and helped him undo the belt at his waist and leaned it against the wall. She pulled his gloves from each hand and then helped with the straps of his heavy cloak. She could feel his eyes scanning her face as she concentrated on the important task of removing his clothes. He tried to capture her in a kiss once more, but she avoids him.  

 

This was what she loved. The intimacy of them and their connection. His doublet soon joined his cloak in the growing pile by the door. His tunic was next, leaving his chest bare to her gaze. As always, her eyes went to the angry red marks on his chest. How someone could do such a thing to this man made her angry. His sole drive in this world was to protect people, and they had killed him for it. He deserved better. She placed a kiss above the angry red mark over his heart and he heaved a heavy sigh. She wished she could kiss it away, to make the pain less for him. She was powerless to keep the memory from hurting, but she would always try.  

 

This time when he attempted to kiss her, she let him, feeling the insistent heat of his tongue against hers.  His hands slid over her waist, her hips and began sliding up to her breasts. She broke away from him, though, moving her lips over his shoulder and moved behind him. The muscles in his back moved with every breath and she was stirred by him.  She moved her hands over his sides down to his hips. She trailed her lips over his skin while her hands slid over the front of his leathers and smiled. The growl she received from him let her know that he was very close to pressing her to the door. However, she stayed behind him and untied his breeches then slipped her hand inside. He leaned his head back and hissed as she stroked over the hard length of him. “Daenerys,” he groaned as she was pressed completely against him. She released him and moved her hands to the V of his abdomen, trailing her fingers through the crease. She smiled again as she felt him shiver beneath her hands and lips.  

 

Daenerys moved to stand in front of him once more and he was unleashed, pulling her against him roughly. His kiss scorched as it moved down her throat and his hands undid the tie of her robe. He fumbled to rid himself of his boots and she giggled as he seemed torn between holding her against him or removing them. He grunted as she took several steps back from him and crooked her finger at him before removing her robe completely and stepping into the steaming water. The needy look in his eyes and the frantic motion of him removing the rest of his clothes had her aching for him. He stepped into the water, unaffected by the heat. She wondered if he even noticed.

 

The thought quickly left her as he pulled her into his lap and sheathed himself inside her. She gasped, gripping his shoulders as he guided her movements over him. She reached behind him and removed the tie holding his hair. She took handfuls of it, holding him against her as he captured her breast in his mouth, his eyes finding hers while his teeth nipped at the stiff peak. She shivered in his arms, rolling her hips against his. This was something she would never give up, never stop fighting to have. He was worth it. When his calloused thumb grazed over her clit, she was undone, throwing her head back. His name echoed off the walls, unable to control the sound. Her body clenched around him and he nearly growled her name against her breast as she milked him of his release.

 

The steam from the bath caused the black curls to look even wilder, helped by her hands raking through them. She loved when he lost control of himself. She loved that she could make him lose that control. He continued to pant against her skin as her hands moved over his neck and shoulders down his back. Jon was strong beneath her and the feel of him gave her a peace she didn’t know she was missing. His hands cupped her face and she opened her eyes to find him staring at her, a languid smile on his face. She couldn’t help but kiss him at that point and he nibbled along her bottom lip and then her chin.  

 

She glanced at the floor and realized that much of the water in the tub had sloshed out and his eyes followed hers, a smile on his face. “Best bath I’ve ever had,” she said into the silence of the room and he chuckled against her skin.

 

“I think there’s more water on the floor than in here.” Her thumbs traced over his jaw and she leaned down to kiss him once more.  

 

“Are you complaining?”

 

He shook his head. “Absolutely not.” He leaned his head back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes. “Let’s stay here the rest of the night.”

 

She smiled as she began placing kisses along his throat. “Do you think anyone is missing you?”

 

He smiled and opened his eyes to look at her. “I think I’m done entertaining people for the day.”

 

Her lips found him and he hugged her closer. When she broke the kiss, she moved along his jaw to his neck. “You’re an impressive man, Jon.”

 

“Am I?”

 

“Mmmm,” she hummed. “Not just in bed,” she chuckled. “Do you remember when you told me that you didn’t like doing what you were good at?”

 

He nodded. “Vaguely. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

 

“It was,” she moved back, feeling him withdraw from her as she rested on his thighs. “I didn’t know what you meant. After watching you fight, I realized that was to what you were referring. But, I’ve found another thing you’re good at that you don’t like. You’re good at ruling,” she said softly. “Your men respect you. They look to you to lead them, trust in you to protect them. But you hate it. You hate the politics that go along with it. You hate the fighting.”

 

He frowned. “Aye. I don’t like distrusting people. My fath...Ned Stark was an honorable man. I suppose it makes me stupid to believe that others should be as well.”

 

She traced over the scar above his brow and then beneath his eye. She took a deep breath and said what was on her mind. “It’s not stupid. Naive, maybe. Not stupid.” She hesitated to bring up the subject, but it seemed to be hanging between them and decided that men did tend to listen better when they were prone beneath a naked woman. “Your father, Ned Stark, was an honorable man. Nothing he did should bring that into question.”

 

“Except that he’s not my father.”

 

She smiled weakly. “He is in the ways that matter,” she said softly. “Consider what could have happened, Jon. He could have left you, allowed Robert to have you killed.” She shook her head. “Instead, he brought you into his home and raised you alongside his children. Yes, Caitlyn Stark treated you poorly.” At his questioning look as to how she knew that she smiled. “Tyrion,” she answered and he rolled his eyes. “Did you doubt that he loved you?”

 

He hesitated for a moment and then sighed. “No.  I never doubted that, actually.”

 

She entwined their fingers and tilted her head as she watched him. “It’s difficult to get older and watch families have what you long for, the purpose and belonging that goes with being a family. Viserys and I ran for so long that we never had peace. Every time I started to feel like I was in a place I could call home, we found out that they knew where we were and they moved us again. It was never safe, we never had the family that you have here with your siblings. And they are your siblings. You love them like that and they love you.”

 

He closed his eyes and seemed to be deep in thought when he spoke his statement caught her off guard. “I’m afraid.”

 

“Why?”

 

“What if this does change how they see me? What if they no longer think of me as their brother but an outsider? What if they don’t love me enough to look past this?”

 

She caught his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking and she wished she could soothe him. Daenerys knew she couldn’t quell the ache, though. Only those he loved as brother and sisters could calm him and make him realize that this revelation only meant that his sire was different, not his father. “I’ve only just met your family, but I can’t imagine, after your reunion this morning, that it changes how they feel about you. I’ve known not known you even half as long as they have and it doesn’t change how I feel. It’s you they love, not your name.” She moved off his lap and stood in front of him. “You should talk to them,” she said as she climbed from the bath and felt his eyes on her as she reached for her robe and turned to find him watching her. He gave her the half-smile she had grown so accustomed to and she held out her hand to him. “We should retire to my chambers.”

 

He gave a faint nod and took her hand. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve had since you suggested a bath.”

 

*~*

 

Daenerys awoke the next morning to find her bed already empty and the sheets beside her cold. He’d been gone for some time as the fire in the hearth had died as well. A knock on her door sounded and she climbed from the bed and donned her robe to open the door to Messandei. “Your grace,” she said with a soft smile. “Lord Snow has requested that you join him in the hall this morning to break your fast.”

 

She nodded as she moved to the vanity and Messandei allowed the attendant in to braid her hair. Her friend moved about the room and laid out the white coat that she hadn’t worn since she’d gone beyond the wall with her dragons. It pained her a bit to see it, remembering all that had happened. The loss of Viscerion still fell so heavy on her heart that she tried to avoid thinking of it. It was like losing Rhaego, again, the ache inside her feeling as if it could never be soothed. Her dragons were what made her extraordinary. At least she felt that way.

 

“How are you feeling this morning, your grace?”

 

She thought back on the night before and met her friend’s eye, a slight blush tingeing her cheeks. “Well rested, Messandei.  And you?”

 

Messandei’s cheeks colored pink as well and Daenerys realized she probably had a similar evening. “Same.”

 

She prized the woman’s friendship very much. She was her true confidant. She knew she could tell Tyrion anything, but he would often be quick to offer his opinion, whether it was wanted or not. Messandei, on the other hand, kept her confidence and seemed to feel the same about her. The attendant fitted the dragon pendant into her hair and then stepped back, allowing Daenerys to examine the intricate pattern of braids and gave her a nod as she stood. She bid the other woman leave and left Daenerys alone with Messandei.  “How is Greyworm?”

 

She nodded. “He is well, though, he doesn’t much care for the cold.”

 

Daenerys heaved a sigh. “It is much harsher than I had imagined.”

 

“You should allow them to come in and make sure the fire is stoked during the night. It would be terrible for you to fall ill.”

 

Daenerys smiled. “I was plenty warm,” she said as Messandei helped her lace the dress she was to wear beneath the white coat. She and Messandei shared a smile. “What do you think of him?”

 

“Jon Snow? He’s very...broody.”

 

She laughed. “He is.  Not without reason.”

 

“He appears to be an honorable man and he seems to make you happy.”

 

Daenerys pulled on her boots and then looked at her friend and couldn’t keep the smile from her face as she thought of Jon. Even though he was possibly the most stubborn person she had met in a very long time, she actually admired that about him. “He does.” But that thought caused a moment of panic and she looked up at Messandei. “It’s dangerous how I feel for him.”

 

“Dangerous?” she questioned. “How so?”

 

She frowned. “Having these feelings for him, for anyone really, is a danger to me. Someone could try to use him against me for their own nefarious purposes.”

 

“Would it work?”

 

Daenerys sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know. The last man I loved died, tragically. I already lost a dragon to save Jon. What else would I risk?”

 

Messandei was silent for a moment and then looked to the queen. “This is a cold and cruel world, your grace. You know that as well as anyone." She looked to her hands and Daenerys could see she was speaking from her heart and it warmed her to know that Messandei cared for her as she did. “But there are moments where we get true happiness. I think those are the moments where we’re living. Everything else is just one bad thing leading to some sort of good.” She looked at Daenerys with a smile. “At least, that’s what I hope.”

 

Daenerys stood and took her friend’s hands and gave her a smile. “So do I.”

 

“Then we should grasp that thing that brings us happiness. Hold on to it as long as we can. Otherwise, what are we fighting for?”

 

Daenerys nodded. “Indeed. Let’s not keep them waiting,” she said as Messandei turned to the door and opened it.  

 

*~*

 

Tyrion was waiting for them at the bottom of the steps and bowed his head to her. “Your grace,” he said. His tone was odd, even for Tyrion.  

 

“What’s happened?” she had an uneasy feeling at her hand’s demeanor and tone, and the last few times she’d felt uneasy around him it had ended with them in heated disagreements.

 

Tyrion shook his head. “It was a long night. I spent much of it trying to figure out our strategy after the revelation of Jon Snow’s true parentage.”

 

Daenerys frowned at Messandei and then back at her hand. “Strategy?”

 

Tyrion’s shoulders sagged and he seemed reluctant to speak. “Your grace, I realize there may be feelings on your side for Jon Snow. I told you there were on his side but you scoffed at the idea,” he reminded her. She did scoff. It seemed ridiculous to her that it was even possible for someone to fall for someone so quickly. And yet, she had. “However, the revelation changes things.” His voice lowered. “This no longer makes you the heir to the throne. He’s the son of the crown prince. There’s documentation to support his claim.”

 

The room spun and she put a hand on the stone wall, never having considered the truth to that statement. Her entire life, the entire purpose and driving force for her since Viserys died was to claim the throne to which _only_ she had a right. But now, Jon Snow was the rightful heir. Not Jon Snow. Aegon Targaryen. He would hate it if he knew she had thought of him that way. But still, she felt like the world was spinning and wanted it to stop. Tyrion didn’t look at her but Messandei steadied her at her elbow.

 

“I hadn’t...considered...” she admitted.

 

“I understand, your grace. That’s why I’m your Hand. I have considered it and what it means.”

 

Daenerys frowned. Was all of it for nothing? If she had no right to the throne, what was the purpose of it all? “What have you considered?”

 

“There are several approaches. Some I know you will vehemently hate. Others, I think you would be much more open to.”

 

“The ones I’ll hate?”

 

“Kill him and his family,” he said with a weak smile, but the look on his face told her that he had no intention of allowing her to do anything of the sort. “The second option also involves death, but seeing as I don’t feel like being roasted alive today by a dragon, I’ll keep that one to myself. However, the most logical option, the one I encourage you to use your sway with him to cultivate, would be marriage.”

 

Messandei looked at Daenerys and she was glad the woman was there. It was frustrating to know that Jon Snow had already eased his way into her heart. When she’d heard the news of his parentage, she hadn’t considered the political implications, only that the man she loved was in pain and she wanted to soothe him. But now, faced with the reality of it all, she felt completely out of sorts.  

 

“Then I’m only the Queen to his King. A secondary ruler, never with real power to create change.”

 

Tyrion shook his head. “You want to build a new world. I think he would encourage the one you want. Speak to one another, lay out what it is you want to him. Tell him of your plans to break the wheel. Allow him to see the true and just ruler that you are and that should you marry it would be a marriage of equals set on the same path, the same world.”

 

Daenerys took in what he said and nodded. “I’ll think about what you’ve said. I’ll let you know my decision by the end of the day.”

 

Tyrion seemed appeased with this answer and he followed her into the hall where Jon was seated at the head table, his sister, Arya to his left. She didn’t know what it was about the girl, but when she looked at her, she felt as if she was weighing her very soul. It made her uneasy. Her eyes met Jon’s and he gave her a slight smile as she sat beside him.  “Your grace.”

 

“Your grace,” she whispered back. “So formal,” she said as she lifted her goblet to her lips but smiled despite herself. His dark eyes watched her and she contemplated what Tyrion had suggested. She couldn’t imagine Jon would have many issues with helping to build a new world, one in which common people had a voice, a way to implicate to their betters the sort of trials and tribulations they suffered. They needed people to advocate for them and a ruler, or rulers, in this case, to listen and help. That’s what she truly wanted. She hated suffering and she wanted it to end. It would never be gone completely, not while men with ambition still roamed the world. Their vile hatred for other people and belief that they, themselves were worthy of more, would always work for their own means and motivations. But she wanted to believe that they could break the wheel to keep it from trampling on anyone else.

 

“Did you sleep well, your grace?” Arya asked and Daenerys wasn’t sure if she liked that this girl had already sussed out that she’d slept with Jon. She could feel several sets of eyes on her, none of which were Jon’s who kept his eyes on his plate.

 

“Yes. The North’s hospitality is unrivaled,” she said before she took a sip from her goblet.

 

She thought that Tyrion’s efforts to not smirk would break his face, however, he hid it behind a bite of food.

 

The awkward moment was broken by a guard entering the room and standing before them. “Your grace,” he said to Jon. News had spread that Jon had bent the knee to Daenerys, but the North didn’t treat him as if he had submitted. “A rider has arrived.  A Gendry Waters.”

 

The clang of metal hit the table beside Jon and everyone turned to look at Arya. Jon turned back to the guard and nodded for him to allow him in. “How do you know him?” Arya questioned and Daenerys looked at the young girl with interest.  The better question was, how did _she_ know him?

 

“He went with us beyond the wall to get wight. He’s the one that ran back to get a raven to Daenerys. Gendry didn’t travel with us to King’s Landing, but rode to the other castles ahead of Winterfell from the wall to warn them that the dead forces weren’t that far away and that preparations should be made to shore up defenses.” He paused. “I would have thought he’d be here before us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so overwhelmed and honored with the response to this fic. I hope you all continue to enjoy it and your comments are greatly appreciated!


	5. Arya I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya is forced face to face with her past and Bran drops so very important information on everyone.

**ARYA**

 

Her heart was racing.  It only ever did that when she was fighting.  But now, about to come face to face with her past she couldn’t help the shaking in her hands and the way her heart nearly leaped from her chest.  Not since she last saw him had she actually felt this way.  Not since he’d called her M'lady.  She stood abruptly and turned to leave the hall, aware that everyone was watching her go even as she heard the door on the far side of the room open once more.  She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wood, waiting to hear if it was really him.

 

“Your grace,” she heard echo into the hall and the scraping of a chair.  

 

“I’m glad to see you made it to Winterfell alive,” Jon, ever the capable leader, greeted him.  “Won’t you join us?”

 

“I don’t wanna intrude,” he said finally, a tinge of something different to his voice this time.  But she listened as Jon insisted that he join them and wondered exactly what his relationship with Jon was.  Were they friends?  Was Jon aware they knew one another?  Did he know any of it?

 

“What are you doing?”

 

She looked up to see Sansa and Brienne both looking at her oddly and she pushed away from the door.  “Nothing.  I’m going to the Godswood.”

 

“Not for prayer,” Sansa said as she walked past them. “What’s happened?”

 

“Nothing.  I just want to be alone, to practice with my sword.  Seems that’s the only place one gets peace around here anymore.”

 

She didn’t meet her sister’s eyes but left the castle as quickly as she could and into the canopy of trees.  Of course, not even here was alone as Bran sat at the base of the tree and he looked over at her as she approached.  “I haven’t seen you run away from something in a very long time,” he remarked.

 

“I wasn’t running away.”

 

Bran simply looked over at her, his expression the same.  No emotion, hardly any recognition of the boy he’d once been.  “Jon doesn’t know you knew each other,” he says finally.  “Gendry didn’t tell him.”

 

“Shut up, Bran,” she said as she sat on the bench facing him.  “There are some things you can leave out and not say.”  This seemed to be a new concept for Bran as he tilted his head and examined her.  

 

They both grew silent and she watched as his eyes grew white.  It unnerved her to see him do this, as he had only done it a handful of times in front of her. His gasp filled the air and his eyes turned to her and it frightened her that there was raging emotion there.  His expression was grave as he spoke.  “You need to take me inside.  I need to speak with Jon.  Now,” he said, and the tone of his voice left little room for her to argue.  She marched behind him and began pushing him to the hall.  As they entered, she glanced at the table and could feel his eyes on her.  

 

“They’re coming,” Bran said aloud to the room.  “Eastwatch has fallen, the wall has fallen.  The dead march towards us.”

 

The room was silent and Arya looked at Jon and could see the panic in his eyes.  He stood suddenly and leaned over the table.  “How far?”

 

“They’re five days.  There’s more.  The Night King...he’s on a dragon.”

 

At this, Daenerys stood, her pale skin growing even more so with the news.  “My dragon?” she questioned and Arya knew the answer before Bran even spoke.

 

Bran nodded.  “He's fast.  Faster than yours.  I think it's the magic.  He breathes blue flame.”

 

Daenerys leaned over the table, the usually straight faced queen looked on the verge of a meltdown and Arya actually felt bad for her.  She's heard that Daenerys considered the dragons her children.  But this was worse than losing a child.  This was learning your child was being used as an instrument of evil.

 

Arya could feel eyes on her and realized that Gendry was staring at her and it actually made her skin itch.  She was elated he was alive, obviously, but he made her feel things that she wasn't prepared to feel.  And after what Bran had just told them, it seemed a cruel twist of fate to bring him back into her life to destroy everything and not give her the chance to be different.  Gendry made her feel different.

 

But all her training had told her that emotions were dangerous.  Feeling things for people could lead to bad decisions.  It made a person unfocused.  That's what was happening to her now.  Only when Daenerys stormed from the hall, Jon and Tyrion on her heels did she realize others were leaving. One of the men came to take Bran back to the Godswood while everyone else but Gendry and Arya left the room.  

 

“I'm...glad you're alive.  I thought you might have been killed by the red witch.”

 

He continued to stare at her and though she wanted to look away, she couldn’t break her eyes from his.  “It wasn't because she didn’t try.”

 

“How did you escape?”

 

“Ser Davos released me.”

 

She stepped forward and tilted her head as she examined him.  His hair was shorter, he looked thinner, but he was still the stubborn bull she remembered so fondly.  “I suppose that's a long story.”

 

“Probably as long as the one regarding how you got your sword back.”

 

Needle.  He would remember. She looked down at the hilt of her sword and then back at him. She noted the hammer that leaned against the table and nodded at it. “Took your love of hammers to new heights.”

 

Gendry reached back and lifted it.  She could tell it was heavy but he lifted it with ease and practice.  She stepped forward and held her hand out and he handed it over willingly.  It was heavier than she expected, but she could feel that it was weighted well and knew that if someone swung it at an enemy and they were hit they would not get up easily.  She noted the stag on the pommel near the head and furrowed her brow.  “A stag?  Not a bull?”

 

“In honor of my father,” he said softly.

 

She raised an eyebrow.  “Have a reunion with the man?”

 

He frowned and shook his head.  “No. He's dead. But I know who he is and who I am.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“The son of Robert Baratheon.  That's why the red witch wanted me. King’s blood.” He sighed and looked at the floor then back at her. “That's why when Davos found me in King's Landing again and took me to meet Jon, I went without question.  It's why I wanted to fight with him.”

 

Arya felt a war within herself as she looked down at the hammer. She was so happy to see him, but for some reason, she also wanted to use his hammer to sweep his legs and pounce on top of him with her knife to his throat. Especially when faced with how quickly he ran to join Jon. “Why Jon and not Robb?”


	6. Gendry I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya's reunion finally happens and Jon and Daenerys are no longer at Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today.

**GENDRY**

 

 _Because Jon knows what it's like to be a bastard._ “I didn't go with you to your brother Robb because I didn't want to serve any king.  I thought the Brotherhood was the solution to that.” She frowned and her expressive eyes made him feel raw and exposed.  He'd hope to see her again but never trusted in the hope that swelled in his chest when he met Jon.  “That didn't work out well.”

 

“Not for anyone.” She heaved a sigh. “I'm glad you're alive.”

 

“You too. I never doubted that you were,” he said softly but regretted it as he watched her expression change. “You were always going to survive.”

 

“I suppose we're similar in that way.”

 

She handed him his hammer and he held it at his side.  “Are you any good?”

 

He smiled. “Decent.”

 

“Care to show me?”

 

He shook his head.  “No.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don't want to hurt you.”

 

She smirked.  “It's a nice sentiment. That you think you could.”

 

“A hammer is different than a sword. More force than finesse.”

 

“Sounds like an excuse.”

 

“And what if I actually hit you? Your brother has me killed?”

 

Arya smiled. “Again, it's nice that you think you'll get a hit.”

 

He shook his head.  “I don't want to fight you.”

 

“Why?”

 

He sighed. “Years, Arya. I haven't seen you in years. The last thing I want to do is fight with you, of all people.”

 

She was silent for a moment. “Maybe I want to fight you. Maybe I want to hurt you for choosing the Brotherhood over me.”

 

“I didn't choose them over you.”

 

“I wanted you to go with us. I wanted you to help Robb and you...”

 

He stepped forward, frustrated that she didn't understand.  “I said ‘no’ because I didn't want to intrude on your family. I didn't want to watch you eventually become a true Stark lady and marry some high-born Lord who would never appreciate you.” He turned his eyes from her and hoped she understood without him having to say it. “You offered to be my family but we both know that wasn't realistic.  I was a bastard and you were a high-born out of reach.”

 

She shook her head.  “You're so stupid,” she said frustrated.  “I'm never going to be a lady like Sansa.  I don't want that. I've never wanted that.”

 

“It was different then.  You were going to be reunited with your family and I would have been the bastard smith that was reaching for something he could never have. And there was the small fact that you were still quite young...”

 

“What's your excuse now?”

 

“I don't have one.”

 

She hesitated for a moment and then did something truly unexpected, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.  “You don't get to choose my path for me,” she whispered.  He dropped the hammer to the ground beside him and wrapped his arms around her waist. “You don't get to leave me again.”

 

He closed his eyes and breathed her in.  “As M'lady commands.”

 

She turned her head towards his ear.  “Call me that again and I'll gled you and you can join the Unsullied.”

 

He squeezed her a bit tighter and smiled against her shoulder. “A tragic end that would be.”

 

She pulled away from him but didn't release him. “You didn't tell Jon you knew me.”

 

He furrowed his brow and voiced the question now roaming through him. “How did you know that?”

 

“Bran.  He told me.  He can see...everything. Why didn't you tell him?”

 

“Because I couldn't tell him what happened to you,” he explained. “I knew you were alive, I just didn't know where to find you.  The Boltons had Winterfell...”

 

“I was in Braavos.”

 

He shook his head. “A long story?”

 

“Very.”

 

“You'll tell me?”

 

“We'll have time. You're not leaving me again.”

 

He shook his head. “No, I'm not.”

 

She shrugged and released him. “Then I'm in no hurry to tell you.”

 

He smirked. “Until then?”

 

“You're going to show me what you can do with your hammer.”

 

His eyes met hers again and the look she gave him was challenging.  She wasn't the little girl he'd known and had confusing feelings about. She was a woman and one who seemed to know what she wanted without hesitation. “I'm not fighting you.”

 

She nodded.  “You made that clear. But you can still show me the balance and form.”

 

He lifted the hammer and followed her out of the hall and into the courtyard.  They came upon Brienne and Poddrick sparring and Pod once again ended up lying face down on the ground as Brienne had tripped him and tagged his back with her sword.  Gendry stared at the largest woman he'd ever seen and watched as she repeatedly bested the squire.

 

Arya sighed. “Widen your stance,” she instructed.

 

It was only a few moments that Arya and Gendry were watching when he felt the presence of two others standing behind them. Arya turned and faced them, her expression grave. “Jaime Lannister.”

 

Pod managed to get a hit on Brienne as she turned to look at Jaime, and he took three huge steps back and dropped his sword, realizing that the woman would put him into the snow again.  Instead, she moved over to Jaime.  “Ser Jaime.”

 

“I need to speak to the Queen,” Jaime insisted and Gendry watched as something passed between the large woman and the famed knight.  

 

The man beside Jaime moved over to the squire and smiled. “Are you ever not getting your ass kicked?”

 

“Squires life.”

 

“The Queen isn't here,” Brienne announced, and all eyes were on her once more.

 

Arya frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

Brienne frowned. “After what Bran told them about the dragon, she climbed on the great black one and flew over the wood.”

 

“And Lord Snow?” Jaime asked.

 

At this Brienne straightened and glanced at Arya. “He took the green one and went after her.”

 

*~*


	7. Jon II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The impulsive nature of the queen forces Jon to accept part of his heritage. Also talk of the three heads of the dragon and the world they could build together if it weren't for that pesky Night King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is Sansa and I know I'll get hate for that one, so I hope you like this one.

**JON**

 

Panic threatened to sweep through his entire body at hearing the Night King had a dragon. The army of the dead was a scary enough prospect, but with a dragon in his guard, it made the whole thing seem even more impossible. He looked to Daenerys and she was on the verge of both fury and sorrow. And when she stormed from the room he and Tyrion went after her.  He saw her run through the courtyard and gates and he kept up with her though when she stepped up to Drogon and climbed onto his back he felt lost. “DAENERYS!” he shouted. He and Tyrion watched her soar into the air and go west over the wood.

 

“You have to talk to her and get her to calm down,” Tyrion demanded.

 

“She's on her dragon! What am I supposed to do?” He felt despair at the entire thing. The same feeling that Tyrion's face showed.

 

“There's another dragon. And you're a Targaryen. Go fucking get her!”

 

Jon looked over at Rhaegal who was staring at Jon as if he understood their conversation.

 

“I've never been on a dragon.”

 

Tyrion seemed close to trying to throttle Jon. “If you love her, bring her back where she’s safe!”

 

Jon looked at the green dragon that now had his enormous snout in his face. He extended his hand and hoped that the reaction was friendly, as it had been the night before when he'd been with Daenerys. The dragon allowed him to pet him and made the decision that he would try. At this point, he wasn't sure what else he had to lose. He moved to his side and stepped foot on his wing then hoisted himself in place. He held on as Rhaegal ran over the ground and the flew into the air over the trees.  

 

It was a thrilling experience at the same time it was terrifying. The wind blew into his face but he could make out the faint outline of Drogon circling a field and then land. He didn't know how to command Rhaegal to do the same but he soon landed near Drogon, and Jon thought that maybe the dragons had a sense about their mother and when she needed them. He found her on the ground, leaning against the black dragon with her knees pulled to her chest and her head buried. He heard her sniffle and realized she was crying.

 

The snow crunched beneath his feet as he got closer and moved to kneel in front of her. She lifted her head and his heart broke for her as tears slid over her face openly. “Daenerys,” he said softly.  

 

“Viscerion. My child. He's using my child,” her voice broke.

 

He swiped at her tears and pulled her into his arms to let her cry. He held her against him and never shushed her. She clung to him, allowing her pain, anger, and frustration to flow out freely. He knew why she left. She was a queen. To cry or lose her composure in front of others would be viewed as a weakness. Jon appreciated that she allowed him to see it and allowed him to comfort her. “We’ll defeat him,” he said after a while. He moved to sit beside her as they leaned against Drogon, shielded from the wind by his large body.“You and I. Together.”

 

“How?” the sound was weak and lacked motivation.

 

He took a shaky breath himself and laced his fingers with hers. “I don't know. But we’ll think of something.”

 

They were both silent and he wished the world could stay like this: softly falling snow, his family safe at Winterfell, and the woman he had fallen in love with at his side. Life was too fucked up to stay this nice for too long, which made him want to fight for it more.

 

“Three heads of the dragon,” she said finally. “It's complete.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viscerion. Drogon is mine. The Night King...he's on the other,” she said, her voice breaking at the words, “and you ride Rhaegal.”

 

Jon looked over at the green dragon, wondering what at the implication of her words. Would he be able to ride Rhaegal all the time? He still felt like a Stark. Nothing revealed had made him feel like a Targaryen as the only stories he knew of his...sire were horrible tales that all seemed to not be true. “I think that might have been a one-time thing.”

 

“Dragons don't make exceptions.” She explained further, “They are finite. He let you ride him alone, without me. They sense dragon's blood. You're the son of Rhaegar Targaryen.” She paused and then looked up at him, a bit of awe in her eyes. “It makes sense that Rhaegal would allow you...”

 

“None of this makes sense,” he sighed out in frustration.

 

“It's said that every dragon has a rider. I thought that because they were my children they wouldn't need them. But they do.” She looked up at him and his eyes met hers. “Rhaegal needs you.”

 

He leaned his head back against the black dragon and closed his eyes, truly feeling as if the weight of the world was sitting on his shoulders and was crushing him one agonizing moment at a time.  But she was beside him and though she was in pain, she was still strong and resolute in her mission. If ever anyone deserved to be called a queen it was Daenerys Targaryen. “I need you. I need you to help me lead and plan. We have to figure out a way to protect our people.”

 

She smirked. “Our people? _Your_ people,” she said finally. “You're the true heir to the Iron Throne.”

 

He shook his head. “None of that matters, now.”

 

“It's always mattered. You are the one that could truly unite the realm of men. We have five days. We could send ravens asking for everyone, serve Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen. King.”

 

“I don't want to be king,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to be King of the North. They named me King. I don’t want the title.”

 

“Maybe not. But maybe you're the king we choose.”

 

Ever since he’d known her, she’d been so determined and certain that it was her divine right to be the queen of Westeros. She’d conquered the slave cities, made allies with impossible allies, had three living dragons, and never questioned her ability and right to it all. It made him uneasy that she seemed to be stepping away from it only because of the revelation of his parentage. “You're giving up your claim?”

 

She shook her head. “No. I want it a different way.”

 

“How?”

 

“Rule by your side as an equal,” she answered, then turned on her knees and faced him. “I want to break the wheel that crushes over everyone. The one that cycles rulers and families, putting someone on top at all times but destroying those who depend on their leadership. It's all I've thought about the last few years. Help those who would never be able to help themselves. Allow people to have a voice.”

 

She had once told him that they both wanted to help people and it could only be done from a position of strength. He’d seen her strength, her power, and knew that the people who followed her believed in her. He believed in her. And her idea of giving power to people to help themselves out of the current system seemed an idea he had never considered. Then, she’d been wielding power and directing others for far longer than he had. “How do  you propose we do this?”

 

“Everyone has their way of choosing leaders. We would rule together, be the king and queen who advocates for their people. Allow them to address grievances. No longer need spiders and whisperers.  Be open with the people. Allow them to select people to represent them...”

 

“Why tell me this?” he asked.

 

“Because this is the world I want to build,” she said as she took his face between her hands and stroked her gloved thumb over his bottom lip. “Like it or not, you're the heir. I can't do it without you, and to be honest...I don't want to.”

 

He frowned. “But none of this matters if we don't defeat the Night King.”

 

She sighed. “How do we do that? Even with Cersei’s army, how do we defeat them?”

 

He held her within the circle of his arms and tried to block out the world.  It was nearly more than he could take.  Giants, wights, the Night King, and now a dragon faster than the two she had. “We’ll consult our counsels.  Maybe someone has an idea,” he said as he pulled back and stood then held his hand out to help her to her feet. “We’ll find a way to win this war.”

 

She stared at his hand for a moment, then placed hers in his and stood to her feet once more, determination in her gaze. “And if not, we’ll make it such a fight that no one will ever forget it.”


	8. Sansa II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime has arrived in Winterfell, but Jon and Daenerys are elsewhere and the Lady of Winterfell is far less trusting or willing to play nice. The North Remembers. And if they don't, Sansa does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna have people hate this chapter, but it does go somewhere, I promise.

  


**SANSA**

 

Brienne and Arya walked into the family solar, causing Sansa to look up in question at the two imposing women.  The look on their faces was grave and she wondered what else could possibly go wrong. She’d been examining the scrolls for houses that were declared to the Starks, trying to calculate how many people they were going to be responsible for housing.  Ravens had already been sent, urging everyone to come immediately to Winterfell.  The first groups would arrive the following day and she was certain a steady influx would continue until it all started.

 

“Jon’s rode off on a dragon to chase Daenerys,” Arya stated and Sansa’s eyes widened a bit.

 

“He’s riding dragons now?” Sansa questioned.

 

“Least of our worries,” Arya stated. “Jaime Lannister has arrived and has asked to speak to the person in charge while Jon is out. That leaves you.”

 

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment. She respected Tyrion because he had always been respectful to her. Jaime, she had no respect for considering how he nearly fell over himself to protect his wicked sister. She often wondered how much agony the world might have avoided had he possessed a spine in order to stand up to his sister. Would Margaery still be alive? Loras? Would Tyrell House still exist?

 

But he hadn’t fought Cersei on anything she did.  Instead, he’d been complicit. She folded her hands in her lap and nodded at them and Brienne moved to the door to escort Jaime and Bronn into the room.  Arya had moved around the desk, her hand on her sword as they stood before her. “Welcome to Winterfell. Different than when you were last here, isn’t it? After all, most of my family is dead. Thanks to yours.”

 

She saw Brienne straighten behind Jaime, but the man kept his eyes firmly on Sansa and didn’t waiver. “A lot has happened.”

 

“It has. Jon told me you would eventually make your way here with Cersei’s army. I’m surprised she held true to her word.”

 

Bronn turned his head to look at Jaime then the floor.  Jaime, however, glanced down and then back at her. “She didn’t.”

 

Arya spoke before she did. “What? What do you mean?”

 

Jaime sighed. “She lied. She has no intention of sending anyone to help in this fight.”

 

“And she wants you dead?” Sansa questioned. “Otherwise, why would she send you to relay her treachery?”

 

He hesitated for a moment and then took a deep breath before he answered her, “She didn’t send me. I came of my own accord because I made a promise.”

 

“Lannisters don’t keep promises they make unless they’re promises of death. Why are you here?”

 

“I brought a small contingent of men with me. We intend to help in this fight.”

 

“How small?” Brienne questioned.

 

Jaime heaved a sigh and answered his eyes meeting Sansa’s once more and she wished she could have him killed and send his head back to his sister. How would the queen of the south handle that? Would she seek vengeance? “Twelve. Including Bronn and myself.”

 

“Twelve?” Sansa scoffed.

 

“What do you expect Jon to do with twelve?” Arya asked.

 

“They’re willing to fight. So are we,” Jaime said, though she wondered how willing Bronn was to enter the fray?

 

“And we welcome you, brother,” Tyrion’s voice sounded behind Jaime and Bronn and he walked to Sansa, his eyes pleading. “At this point, we need everyone we can get.”

 

“We don’t need traitors,” she answered. “Why should we trust you?”

 

“He’s here,” Tyrion answered. “That’s all we need.”

 

“That’s all _you_ need,” Sansa responded. “He’s your brother and you love him. But he’s been part of schemes that have caused several of my family members to die. We’ve already killed one traitor in Winterfell. Lord Baelish begged for his life at the end. Would you beg as well?”

 

Sansa could feel Arya step closer to her, prepared to strike if needed, but Brienne spoke up.  “Lady Sansa, may I have a word?”

 

“I’d like one as well,” Tyrion insisted.

 

Sansa glanced at Arya who shrugged a shoulder, letting her know that it was her decision.  “Very well.  Guard,” she called and one of the guards from outside the room stood in the doorway.  “Escort Ser Jaime and Ser Bronn to rooms. They must be exhausted after their journey from King’s Landing. Make sure they’re fed as well. I’d hate for anyone to die on an empty stomach,” she threatened.

 

Jaime looked close to rage, however, he followed the guard out of the room and Bronn stepped to the door. “I really just wanted to speak to Tyrion, if I could before I’m executed.”

 

“Eat well, Ser Bronn,” Sansa said and he made a face letting her know his displeasure before the guard escorted him out of the room. “Close the door, Brienne.”

 

She did as asked and Tyrion turned his attention to Sansa. “You can’t kill him or have him killed.”

 

“Can’t I? He admitted that his sister, _your_ sister, lied to Jon and the queen about sending forces to our aid.”

 

“But he is here, my lady,” Brienne pleaded. “He could have left us here hoping for them to come. He was true to _his_ word.”

 

“With the exception of Tyrion, a Lannister’s word doesn’t mean anything to me.”

 

“At least wait until your brother and Daenerys return,” Brienne pleaded.

 

“I beseech you, my lady,” Tyrion urged. “He’s come here because he knows what it is we face. I saw that dead thing at the meeting.  Brienne saw it,” he said as he looked to the larger woman to agree.  She nodded as well, her expression grave. “If this has pushed Jaime to come help us, maybe he’s the ally we need.”

 

Sansa weighed his words carefully. She knew Tyrion loved his brother, to a fault. He’d always believed in Jaime even when it wasn’t warranted. She never understood Tyrion’s loyalty to Jaime. He allowed his sister and father to treat Tyrion badly and claimed he loved him all the same. A part of her, a tiny voice inside her, argued that she had done the same with Jon until she needed him.

 

She looked at Arya. “What do you think?”

 

Arya frowned. “He’s telling the truth.”

 

Tyrion and Brienne both seemed to sag in relief, hoping that would be enough to keep Sansa from carrying out an execution.  “How can you tell?” Sansa asked, not willing to give either of them too much hope.

 

“The same way I can tell that Tyrion is near to collapsing on the floor and Brienne from flinging herself in front of Jaime to protect him.”  At their looks, Arya continued, her eyes meeting those of her sister. “He’s also not wearing the Lannister armor I saw him in at the Twins, and he only brought twelve men, hardly enough to lead a coup against us. If he did come here, maybe it was against Cersei’s orders.”

 

Sansa frowned.  “Do you trust him?”

 

At that, she scoffed.  “No. But then I don’t trust most people,” she answered. “Whatever you decide, I’ll back you,” Arya said finally.  “However, I would caution doing anything before Jon or Daenerys come back.”

 

“Then the decision will be taken out of my hands.” Tyrion made a sound and she looked over at him.  She almost felt bad.  She did know how the two brothers felt for one another.  It was probably Jaime’s only redeeming feature that he had loved Tyrion despite everyone around him telling him he shouldn’t. At least some part of his small heart still beat for a reason besides his own self-preservation.

 

Arya shrugged.  “Maybe that’s for the best if you can’t be impartial. I can’t either. Jon and Daenerys are not us, though,” she said softly.

 

Sansa looked to the pleading face of Tyrion and even Brienne and felt for them. Their care for Jaime Lannister was evident. She wondered if they would think her a monster if she sent Arya to kill him? Would they insist she be killed for not allowing him to defend himself?

 

“Arya,” she said finally.  “Come with me to the Godswood,” she said as she stood and walked to the door.

 

“And Jaime?” Tyrion questioned and she turned to face her former husband.

 

“He’ll stay alive.  For now,” she said as she led the way out of the room.

 

*~*

 

Bran was exactly where she wanted him to be. She suspected that Brienne and Tyrion would be with Jaime and Bronn.  The sellsword meant little to her and if she killed Jaime she would allow him to live. She knew he had been loyal to Tyrion and that might be a factor that would keep him from trying to kill her in her sleep. She didn’t want to fight with the Hand to the queen, but she felt strongly about the Lannister family, even if she didn’t count him amongst their most treacherous.

 

Arya was at her side as Sansa moved to stand in front of Bran who didn’t even react to her presence. “Ser Jamie is here,” Bran said and looked up at Sansa. “And you want to know what to do?”

 

“I want to know several things,” she said. “Is Jaime here because Cersei sent him?”

 

He shook his head. “She’s told Euron Greyjoy that if he brings her his head, she’ll marry him.”

 

Arya shifted at this news. “She cares so little for him? Why?”

 

“She’s pregnant with his child. She doesn’t need him anymore,” Bran answered.

 

Sansa frowned and cursed Jaime.  How could he be so stupid? Cersei was pregnant again, and given what Joffrey was, even with the influence of his father, legitimate or otherwise, the child could be worse than his older brother. “Can we trust him?”

 

Bran nodded. “We can now.”

 

Arya furrowed her brow and shifted in her stance. “What do you mean, _now_?”

 

At that moment, Jon came into the Godswood, looking as if he had run. He was panting heavily as he moved to stand beside Bran. “What do you mean having Jaime locked away?”

 

“He’s in a room. Not a cell,” Sansa clarified. “Tyrion meet you as you came into the gate?”

 

“Brienne,” he answered. “He came to aid us, Sansa.”

 

“With twelve men.”

 

This caused Jon to pause, but he looked at his sister with a resolute determination. “Twelve more than we had,” he insisted.

 

Arya looked back to Bran and frowned. “What did you mean we can trust him now?”

 

Bran looked at each of them and answered. “I never remembered who did it before I became the three-eyed raven. Once I had the full power, it was one of the first things I watched.”

 

“What?” Sansa questioned.

 

“I was shoved from the tower. I had climbed up and found Jaime and Cersei having sex. Cersei kept saying that I saw them and Jaime asked how old I was, and I told him. He looked at her and said ‘The things I do for love’ and he shoved me out of the window.”  Sansa could see Arya grip the hilt of her knife and she hoped that her sister stormed back to the castle and slit his throat.  However, she didn’t. Neither did Jon, but they both looked to the verge of committing murder. “But you can trust him now,” Bran answered. “He argued with Cersei about betraying Jon and Daenerys. He fought for bringing their men North to fight. She nearly had him killed by the Mountain and sent Bronn to kill him on the road here. Bronn is loyal to both Lannister men. They don’t have the army you need,” he said to Jon, “but Jaime is a commander on the battlefield, and you need him.”

 

She turned her blue eyes to Jon who was staring at Bran, a look between confusion and anger warring over his features. She realized, with some horror, that Jon was considering not having him executed. “You can’t be seriously considering allowing him to live?” But at Arya and Jon’s exchanged look, Sansa was ready to kill him herself. “He nearly killed our brother.”

 

Jon withdrew Longclaw and knelt before Bran. “It’s your life he nearly took. If you tell me to trust him, to allow him to live and help us, I will.  My word as a Stark, I would avenge you if you say the words.”

 

“I didn’t die. Had he not taken my legs, I might not be the three-eyed raven now. I’m more than I ever would have been if I was simply Lord Stark.” Bran shook his head. “You need him to help you. He and Bronn know of a weapon to use to take down dragons,” Jon’s shoulders eased at that, and he stood and sheathed Longclaw. “You can trust him.” He looked at the three of them and his eyes met Sansa’s. “He’s not what he once was. He’s here to help. You need help,” Bran said finally, looking at Jon. “Tyrion is advocating to Daenerys, now, to keep Jaime alive.”

 

Sansa felt rage building in her chest as she watched Jon lower his head then turn his dark eyes to hers. “Don’t.”

 

“Sansa...you don’t know what’s coming for us.”

 

“He started all of this when he shoved Bran from that window! Mother went south and told them about what she found. They suspected Tyrion.”

 

“But all of that was actually started by Littlefinger,” Arya argued.  “The letter to Mother from Lyssa. Jon Arryn’s poisoning.  All of it was because...”

 

“He nearly killed you!” She practically screamed at Bran, but the younger boy had no reaction to his sister’s rage and hurt. “Am I the only one who thinks that a man who tries to kill a little boy is not a man worth trusting?” How could they not see?

 

Arya spoke first and looked to Jon. “I...agree with Sansa,” she said softly and Sansa felt relief. If Jon wouldn’t listen to her, he would most assuredly listen to Arya. “But I also agree with Bran.”

 

“What?” Sansa questioned.

 

Arya frowned. “He did almost kill Bran. He should be killed for that,” she agreed. “But...the dead are coming and we need someone with skills in planning for battles. Jon and Jaime together could give us a chance...”

 

“So, his sins against our family mean nothing?”

 

“They don’t mean...I need him alive, Sansa,” Jon said finally.

 

“This is like with Ramsay all over again. You didn’t listen to me then and you nearly lost that battle.”

 

He turned to face her fully, fury on his features and it was the first time that she realized he was more than a Stark. The cold and calculated words he said next cut her as if he’d used his own blade, “The last I checked, I was king in the north,” he said coldly. “Not you. We need every advantage and if that is Jaime fucking Lannister alive to help us plan, then I’ll wait until after we’ve won to dole out justice.”

 

Sansa’s back straightened, her eyes narrowing at Jon. “Is that your order as a king? Because the _last I checked_ , you bent the knee to Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

“Aye, I did. Because she was a person willing to fight. She gave up one of her dragons to save my pathetic life after going on a mission that was flawed from the beginning. It was dangerous, she was advised not to, but she took her dragons beyond the wall and saved our lives while losing one of her children.” His eyes never met hers, hard and unyielding, but she didn’t back or look away. “I would bend the knee to that person every day if it meant I had her fighting with me.”

 

“With you? Or you _for_ her?”

 

Jon straightened his shoulders and looked down at his hands.  “I asked you once to trust me. That we had to trust one another. I will not hear any more about this, Sansa. I don’t care if you don’t like my decision; it is final,” he said as he began walking away and then turned. “Arya,” he said as he faced them again. “You’re not to kill him, either.”

 

Arya raised an eyebrow and nodded.  “I won’t.”

 

Jon gave a final nod and left the Godswood. Sansa looked at Bran who appeared to have something close to sympathy on his face, but it was only a ghost of an emotion before he was back to being strange. He turned his eyes back to the heart tree and Sansa looked at Arya. “I’ve always known that you loved Jon more than me...”

 

Arya frowned. “That has nothing to do with it,” she said softly. “I’m insulted that you would think that colored my decision in any way.”

 

“Didn’t it?”

 

“No. We’re fighting a war, Sansa. War creates strange allies.” She sighed. “I don’t trust Jaime Lannister. I don’t trust any Lannister, not even your former husband. But, I trust Bran, Jon, and you. He heard you and what you had to say. You want us to value your opinion, and I do. But battles are different than politics. Someone with battlefield experience is something we need.”

 

“And if he betrays us?”

 

“He’ll die a painful death. You have _my_ word as a Stark,” she said softly.

 

Sansa frowned and began walking out of the Godswood, Arya beside her. “I suppose that will have to keep me warm at night.”

 

Arya smirked. “You’ve changed, sister. Used to be thoughts of marrying a prince and having babies that kept you warm.”

 

She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head as it began to snow.  “Now, the only thing that gives me comfort is knowing that eventually, everyone who ever wronged our family will die.”

 

“I’m not going to kill Jaime Lannister for you,” she said after they made it to outside the doors to the hall. “I told Jon I wouldn’t and I won’t.”

 

Sansa looked over at her and stopped walking. “I’m not asking you to. The battle will be long and hard. What are the chances a man with one hand makes it out of that alive?”

 

Arya frowned. “Let’s hope he’s a better war strategist than a swordsman,” she said as she led the way into the hall and back to the solar where Jon was seated behind the desk as Tyrion was speaking to him. They all stopped as Sansa entered, Tyrion looking close to throttling her himself.

 

“If you’ve come to take my brother’s head, it appears you’ll have to wait,” he said after a moment.

 

Sansa moved to sit in a chair beside the fire. “I’ll wait to have his head. After he proves himself of some use maybe I won’t take it,” she said as she leveled a look at her former husband and brother. Daenerys entered the room, accompanied by Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister, and Bronn. Jaime’s eyes moved to Sansa, and they narrowed at her. Her gaze didn’t waver from his but he eventually turned his attention back to Jon.

 

“You nearly killed my brother, Bran,” Jon stated evenly.

 

Tyrion looked over at Jaime and then back at the desk.  Daenerys, however, turned her attention to Jaime. “Is that true?”

 

Sansa hoped he would lie to prove what an untrustworthy person he was. Then Jon would see that he should die. “I did. An action I deeply regret to this day.”

 

“My sister has advocated for killing you,” he said, gesturing to Sansa. She felt several people looking at her, but her eyes never wavered from the man who had nearly killed her brother.

 

Daenerys moved around the desk and took the chair beside Jon. Sansa wondered how much influence she had over Jon. Did he listen to her about strategy? Did she have his complete trust while he still questioned hers? “Your grace,” Tyrion started to interject and Daenerys held up her hand to silence him.

 

“I believe your brother is fully capable of speaking for himself, Tyrion. Why should we trust you?” Daenerys asked.

 

“If I was you, I probably wouldn’t. It would be easier to kill me rather than wonder what my true motives are.”

 

“And I suppose asking you to be honest for the first time in your life would be asking too much?” Sansa inwardly smiled as Daenerys didn’t seem so willing to back down. She was starting to like the dragon queen more than she originally thought. “Ser Jaime, you’ve come to Winterfell to tell us that your sister has broken her word and has no intention of helping us but is doing the _very thing_ she swore she wouldn’t do. Why should we believe that you are here out of the goodness of your heart?”

 

“I saw that thing,” Jaime said as he stepped forward. “That dead thing that tried to kill my sister. I believed you when you said you went beyond the wall. I believed you when you told me how many. I tried to get Cersei to see reason...”

 

“But not even you can get through to her. Why shouldn’t I fly my dragon to the Red Keep and roast her alive inside? Take her army from her?”

 

“A lot of people, innocent people would die if that happened,” Jaime said and Sansa could see that he was trying to get them to see reason.  “I did something horrible years ago, something I’ve lived to regret. A lot of things, actually. But I’m here because I’m trying to keep all of those innocent people, and countless others, from dying as well. Kill me if that’s what you want,” at Tyrion’s attempted protest, Jaime shook his head. “But I’m here to help you.”

 

Daenerys lowered her head and then looked over at Jon who hadn’t taken his eyes off Jaime. “I spoke with Bran. He says I should trust you now.”  Jaime remained silent, but Sansa felt a sense of panic that he may have talked himself out of being killed. There was a growl behind Jaime and Sansa could see fear race across his face as they all turned slowly, one by one to see the large direwolf, Ghost. The red eyes in his face glowed ominously and Sansa hoped that the wolf would kill him simply because it was feeding off Jon’s anger. Jon shifted in his seat, his eyes locked on the wolf. “I won’t take your head, Ser Jaime. But should you give me a reason not to trust you, you needn’t worry about Arya and her knife, Daenerys or her dragons, or Dothraki screamers.  You should worry that my direwolf will devour you before you can so much as scream.”  The wolf continued to growl and reared back on its haunches, prepared to strike.  “Ghost,” he called and the wolf stopped, righted himself then moved through the room and around to perch beside Jon, towering over him even as he sat down.

 

Sansa watched Daenerys as she stared at the wolf, that while sitting, was nearly as tall as she was standing. Ghost came and went from the keep as he pleased. He was a direwolf and not all that beholden to command. It made her miss Lady and the bond they could have had. Joffrey and Cersei had robbed her of that. Justice for an injustice. The only injustice was that her sweet pup had to die. One of another long list of reasons she hated Cersei Lannister.

 

Daenerys turned her attention back to Jaime and resumed her seat beside Jon. Her countenance never changed as she regarded the man who had slain her father. Maybe that was a way to get her to side with Sansa. She knew that if she had Joffrey here she’d want to watch him die a thousand deaths, each more painful than the one before. But her father was very different from Aerys Targaryen, the Mad King. Eddard Stark was honorable, more so than they ever thought, but King Aerys had been mad and threatened to kill everyone in King’s Landing, simply to keep out his enemies. He deserved to die. She would never say that to Daenerys, but the woman had proven to be level-headed enough that she assumed she knew that the Mad King had earned his name. And the murderer was standing before them, offering his help.

 

Jon stood then and sighed. “I’ll let you keep your life if you tell me how to build the weapon your sister has that can kill a dragon.”

 

Jaime looked over at Bronn and then back at Jon.  “I can do that,” he said finally.

 

Sansa looked down at her hands, wishing there was something she could do or say to make all of them change their minds, but when she realized there wasn’t, she stormed from the room.


	9. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battle plans are made along with some uneasy alliances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU all for the very kind feedback. I appreciate everything you guys have said and I've tried to respond to all comments. Thank you for your support.

  


**JAIME**

 

He felt a bit of smug satisfaction that Sansa didn’t get what she wanted. Part of the smugness was because he got to keep his life. He didn’t know exactly how they knew what he’d done, what role he played in the near death of their brother, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time. Jaime was only so happy that Jon and Daenerys seemed to be reasonable, though he was curious if it would be his last day alive. It probably would have been had they not arrived when they had.

 

“Guard,” Jon called and one of the many guards appeared in the doorway. “I need Greyworm of the Unsullied, Ser Jorah Mormont, Sandor Clegane, and the Lords of each house in the hall within the hour. I need a map of the North. A recent one,” he said and Daenerys stood as well, her shoulders back, ready to face the coming battle as well. Jaime watched as the guard left and then turned back to Jon.

 

Daenerys looked at Bronn and spoke, “Tell me about his weapon.”

 

Jaime walked over to the wall and removed a crossbow, showing the center arm of the bow.  “There is a metal piece, like that of a hip joint, that gives it free movement and allows it to rotate in all directions. There’s a mechanism that you crank to pull the string tight.”

 

“How heavy is the weapon?” Jon questioned.

 

“A spear as large as I am only pierced the black dragon...”

 

“Not from lack of trying,” Bronn added and Jaime noticed the cold look Daenerys gave him. “No offense.”

 

An hour later found them in the great hall, a large map spread out on a table and held down with various knives. Tyrion had placed a bag on the table and removed several pieces taken from Daenerys’ painted table at Dragonstone.  Three dragons, two of which were placed over Winterfell and the other at the Wall.  Jaime felt his heart sink.  Cersei had been right, she had lost a dragon.  “You don’t have all three?” he questioned.

 

She shook her head.  “The Night King has it,” she answered, her tone cold.

 

 _We’re fucked._ “Which is why you need the weapon,” Jaime realized and shook his head.  “How?”

 

“In an effort to bring your _sister_ a wight,” Daenerys replied, and her tone was cold and accusing. “I went to the capture party beyond the wall.  The Night King threw an ice spear and killed Viscerion. He’s apparently resurrected him and that’s what they used to bring down the wall.”

 

Jaime’s head was spinning.  Not only did the Night King have a dragon but the wall was down.  “When did the wall come down?”

 

Jon frowned.  “A few days ago.  They’ll be here in five days.”

 

“How do you know that?” Bronn questioned.

 

Jon furrowed his brow. “We have a greenseer amongst us.”

 

He took in that information and regarded the King in the North.  “Anything else I should know?”

 

Jon shook his head, but Daenerys nodded.  “Jon is the true heir to the Iron Throne.  He is the legitimate son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark.  There is a Maester’s record that shows his marriage to Elia Martell was annulled while at the same time he married Lyanna.”

 

Jaime looked to Daenerys. “And you still fight beside the man who will replace you on the throne?”

 

Jon looked over at her and then back at Jaime. “I’m not replacing her.  We’ll take the throne from your sister together. _After_ we defeat the dead.”

 

Jaime frowned and realized they’d been honest with him when they didn’t have to be.  He hated that he felt obligated to do the same. “Cersei has purchased the Gold Company. She’ll be using Euron’s ships to bring them to King’s Landing.”

 

“He might have a bit of a fight from some of the Iron Fleet,” Jon responded. “Theon has gone to get his sister.”

 

“And you expect him to win?” Jaime scoffed.

 

“I expect that Theon will not come back empty handed,” he answered. “Seeking revenge for your family can be a powerful motivator.”

 

*~*

 

Two hours later found Jaime, Bronn, Sandor Clegane, Tyrion Lannister, Ser Davos Seaworth, Brienne of Tarth, Lord Glover, Jorah, Lady Mormont and the rest of the North’s bannermen all gathered around the table.  The pieces had been laid out and Lord Glover was currently arguing with Tyrion about the use of the Northron forces and how he was uncertain that a Lannister should dictate his troops' movements.

 

Daenerys spoke up.  “Enough.  Lord Glover, Tyrion Lannister is my hand.  Jaime Lannister is a tried and tested battle commander who even had the misfortune of facing off against one of my dragons.  You’re part of _our_ army as we’re willing to sacrifice our lives to try to save those of _your_ people. All people.  Allow yourself to listen.”

 

Lyanna Mormont stepped forward and turned to the Queen.  “Where would you like the soldiers of Bear Island?”

 

Jaime nearly smiled at the fight in the little girl.  “Bear Island will be well represented closest to the wall.  I don’t know what your weapon specialty is, my lady...”

 

“I’m best with a bow,” she answered. “I can use a sword, but I prefer the bow.”

 

“How many people do you have, Lady Mormont?”

 

“One hundred thirty-four. Twenty-three tested soldiers that fought with King Snow at the Battle of the Bastards.  The others have been training since we were asked to do so.  Seventy archers, fifteen with spears, but most are good with the use of a sword.”

 

Jaime smiled at the little bear and nodded, taking the figure and setting it on the wall.  “I would have your archers on the wall, you as well, to help lead them.  Since the dead can be killed by fire, we’ll have it beside you, ready to light your arrows.”

 

“Fire,” Daenerys said at looked around at the group.  “That’s the key to protecting the keep.  What if we were to dig trenches and cover that with pitch?  Only light a level once the group has had to retreat.  It buys us time and allows us to regroup, but keeps the dead at bay for a bit.”

 

“Where, my queen?” Jorah asked.  Daenerys looked at the map.

 

“Moats of fire.  The Unsullied,” she said as she looked at Greyworm, “our first line.  Skilled warriors to fight and finish off as much of the dead as they can.  The dead army has giants, so those will need to be eliminated first.  Cut them off at the knees and use the dragon glass to kill them.”

 

Jon moved over beside her and looked at the loop she’d drawn around the northern side of the castle.  “Should the Unsullied have to retreat, the next phase will be the remaining Unsullied and the Dothraki.  We’ll keep as many of their archers on the wall as we can, but their horses and skills mounted will help us,” he said, seeing Daenerys’ plan and realizing that it could work.  “Then another moat of fire,” he said.  We’ll leave this the widest berth closest to the castle.  We need four of those...Scorpions,” he looked to Jaime who nodded at the use of the name, “on the wall.  If that dragon gets close to our troops, it’s to be shot down.  We need spears forged of dragonglass.”

 

“We have a skilled blacksmith in our service,” Davos responded. “I believe Gendry could make what you’re asking. He was trained by one of the best in King’s Landing.”

 

“Gendry says he’s a fighter,” Jon reminded.

 

“He was a smith, first,” Arya answered.  “He could forge them,” she said as she moved over to the table.  “Who is defending the wall?”

 

Daenerys used the sigils of House Glover, Manderly, Stark, and the rest of the Northern banners against the wall then placed the lion of the Lannisters.  “We’ll have a contingent inside the walls should anything get through.  But this is the hold for the North.  This is where The North will make its stand.”

 

“And what of the dragons?” Davos asked.  “We’re fighting one, yes, but what of the other two?”

 

Jon and Daenerys looked at one another and it was then Jaime realized they were more than just allies.  When had the King in the North, now proclaimed to be the heir of the Seven Kingdoms, bed the Mother of Dragons?  Jon didn’t strike him as a man capable of seducing a woman, he lacked the overall confidence needed.  That left the dragon queen, who seemed to ooze confidence in her every movement.  It explained why they proclaimed they were going to rule together, take the kingdom from Cersei together.

 

Love always seemed to play a part, despite how the foundation of it all seemed to be at complete odds with wars that were raged.  “Daenerys will be on Drogon, the winged shadow,” Jon said.  “Making sweeps towards the back.  I think we should aim for the White Walkers, as we know when one falls that those they turned fall as well.”

 

“And the green dragon?” Jorah questioned.

 

“Jon will ride Rhaegal until which time it falls back to the third line.  He’s then on the ground with you,” Daenerys answered.  “And I’ll continue with Drogon and Rhaegal to make sweeps.  Ser Jorah, Bronn, and Clegane, I would request that the three of you use your skills to defend the walls.  Ser Davos, I would put you _on_ the wall with Lady Mormont.”

 

“And Brienne?” Jaime asked.  “Where will she be?”

 

“Protecting Sansa.”

 

“And me?” Arya asked.  “And Gendry?”

 

Jon sighed as he looked over at his younger sister. Jaime could see that Jon didn’t want to entertain the thought of her on the battlefield, but from what he’d seen of the young Stark girl, no one would tell her shouldn’t do something, even if that person was her brother and king.  “You’ll be inside the courtyard,” he finally settled. “No one will defend it better than a Stark.” He turned to Bronn.  “Since you know how to shoot the Scorpion, I need you to show others.  Make sure they work and how to aim and shoot them.”

 

Bronn nodded.  Jaime looked to Jon.  “And me?”

 

“You’ll be leading the troops on the ground,” Lord Glover stood straighter and Jaime looked to him in frustration.  But Jon spoke first.  “Jaime has experience with battles, even against a dragon.  We need him.  I ask that you put the same faith in him that you have in me.”

 

After a moment’s hesitation, Lord Glover nodded.  Jaime felt a bit better that the hard-nosed men of the North saw that it was better he was with them than against them.  Jaime looked at the map of Winterfell and the North wall in particular.  “We need the Scorpions on these towers.  They’ll have a full range of motion, able to swivel from side-to-side and up and down.”

 

“We need Dragon glass spears.  And we need to know of all the Valyrian steel at our disposal.  Who has swords made of it?  Valyrian steel can kill the Walkers.”

 

“Brienne and I both have it,” Jaime said softly, not telling Jon or the others that their swords were made from Ned Stark’s blade, Ice. Jaime shared a look with the lady and she frowned sadly.  She wasn’t in much of a hurry to tell them either, it seemed.  He wondered how Jon and Arya would react to knowing their father’s sword had been melted down to make two new ones.  Would they demand they turn them over? Would they use his sword to remove his head?

 

“Samwell Tarly has one as well.”

 

“Samwell Tarly?” Jaime questioned.  “Son of Randall Tarly?”

 

“Yes. He was my brother at the Night’s Watch. He’s been here for several weeks.”

 

Jaime’s eyes turned to Daenerys and her eyes met his, unwavering. “Does he know you roasted his father and brother alive?”

 

Everyone turned to Daenerys who appeared unmoved. “It’s common knowledge they died on the field,” she answered.

 

“They survived the battle. It's after you'd won they lost their lives.”

 

Daenerys seemed unmoved by this fact. “They were given a choice: bend the knee or die.”

 

“Not much of a choice, was it?”

 

“And what would your sister have done? Would she have let them choose?” Jaime thought for a moment and then shook his head. “I was true to my word. Two died to show one hundred not to be equally stupid. Those men are here amongst my fighting force.”

 

“Again, that doesn't sound like much of a choice.”

 

Daenerys settled into her stance and tilted her head at him as if he was a small child and she had to indulge him. “You're right. It's not. I didn't choose any of this. I didn't choose to be exiled from my home as a baby. I didn't choose to marry a Khal who raped me. I didn't choose for my son to die. I didn’t choose to be the Mother of Dragons.” She paused for a moment and her face grew stern. “I did choose to free the slave cities. I did choose to take the Unsullied and free them. I chose to kill the Khals and lead the Dothraki. I chose to bring my ships to Westeros. I chose not to fly to the Red Keep and kill all of you while you slept.” She tilted her head. “I chose to side against Sansa Stark in wanting you dead even though you killed _my_ father. I've had a lot of choices taken out of my hands. It's more than I can say for the Tarlys.”

 

The tension was broken by a guard who didn't realize he was interrupting a very tense moment. “Your grace, Tormund Giantsbane and Beric Dondarrion have arrived and are with Lady Sansa.”

 

Jon nodded.  “My Lords, you are dismissed.  Queen Daenerys, Arya, Ser Jaime, Ser Bronn, Ser Jorah, and Lady Brienne please stay.” Jaime took the opportunity to look around the room and his eyes fell to the large white wolf sleeping in front of the hearth. He remembered seeing the pups for the first time, years ago. They could still be referred to as pups. But now, the great wolf was as large as his horse and seemed to be possessive of his master.  Bronn moved over to Jaime while the room was quiet and whispered, “You couldn’t fucking tell me you tried to murder the little boy _before_ we got here?”

 

Jaime scowled at Bronn. “How was I supposed to know that _now_ would be the time that this was brought up?”

 

He narrowed his eyes at Jaime. “Anything else you’ve done to this family they don’t know about? Sansa Stark was trying to separate you from your head.”

 

He shook his head. “Nothing they don’t know about.”

 

Bronn nodded. “Good. I fucking hate surprises,” he said as the doors opened and two large men entered the room. The large wildling that was kissed by fire, eyed Brienne. The Wildling obviously had some sort of attraction to her and he was unsure how he felt about it.

 

“Lady Brienne, you look as...fearsome as always,” he greeted, his voice rough and his accent distinctly Northorn.  Bronn started laughing from beside him and everyone turned to look at the man that was nearly doubled over with it, however, Tormund never tore his eyes Brienne, giving her a cheeky smile when she looked back at him.

 

“I’m glad to see you both survived Eastwatch,” Daenerys said, trying to draw attention away from Bronn.

 

Beric gave her a nod. “It was thanks to you we made it back there in the first place, your grace.”

 

Jaime wasn’t entirely sure what happened beyond the wall, but he knew that Beric Dondarrion was said to be the leader of the Brotherhood Without Banners. He’d just called Daenerys Targaryen ‘your grace’. The day had been incredibly strange. An hour ago he wasn’t sure if he would be food for a direwolf and now he was going to help lead the charge against the dead when they marched on Winterfell.  Incredibly strange day.

 

“Better she came than the one that fucks her brother,” Tormund said, to which Jon hid a smile behind a cough. Brienne looked over at Jaime and he felt the sting of it. This Wildling thought little of him, apparently. “Dragons are much more useful in situations like that.”

 

“Tell us about the wall,” Daenerys interjected, probably to keep the Wildling from saying anything else to unknowingly bring shame to the commander of their army.


	10. Arya II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Battleplans are beginning to physically manifest. Arya speaks with the Dragon Queen and her brother. And after overhearing a raunchy conversation between some members of the fighting force, Arya goes to the only other person, besides her brother, that she truly trusts for answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a lot happening in this chapter. You'll be able to tell my favorite part to write, I'm sure. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> One note: I know Sansa/Jaime freaks some of you out. I hope you'll stick with me though. I have future chapters written, and so far, those have been my favorite.
> 
> EDITED TO ADD: Not sure how people will feel about this, but I changed the rating from Mature to Explicit. What's coming can only be described that way!

**ARYA**

 

Two hours later found the group on horses riding away from Winterfell. They came to the tree line and Jon climbed from his horse, the rest of the group following suit. Arya stayed close to her brother, not trusting one of them to not try to kill him.

 

“We’ll stagger the Unsullied,” Jaime started and looked at one of the builders responsible for shoring up the defenses of Winterfell. He walked several paces away from the treeline and looked to Jon and Daenerys. “The first moat of fire should be far enough from the trees, so we don’t ignite the forest but far enough from the keep to allow those that are mounted to be better able to move.”  He took the shovel the builder had in his hand, “Start here,” he said and plunged the Shovel into the nearly frozen ground. “You’ll probably need more than shovels to dig. Axes to break the frozen ground.”

 

Jon moved twenty feet closer to the keep and looked back at them. “This wide,” he said and another shovel was plunged into the ground where he stood. “We need men working day and night.”

 

“How much pitch do we have?” Jaime asked.

 

“Bear Island has stores of it, your grace. I can have a raven sent to bring all we can,” Lyanna Mormont offered. Arya liked this little girl. She saw much of herself in the determined gleam in her eyes and smiled.

 

Jon nodded at her and Lord Manderly then, “I’ll have my men bring our stores as well.”

 

“How many barrels?”

 

Lyanna’s advisor whispered into her ear and she announced, “Eighty from Bear Island.”

 

“Fifty from White Harbor.”

 

Sansa tilted her head and looked around at the group and spoke next. “We have our own stores as well. Thirty-seven was the last count done,” she offered.

 

Jaime frowned. “That’s not enough.”

 

“No, but it’s a start. Can we have more of it made in that time?” Jon questioned.

 

“With the right amount of manpower and materials, that should be easily accomplished,” Davos offered. “With the stores that we have and the ones we have five days to make?” He looked to Jon, questioning the number of days. Off Jon’s nod, he continued, “We should be able to double the amount we have now.”

 

Tyrion spoke up then and turned to the Queen. “Your dragons will be the ones that will have to light the fires.”

 

“My dragons are well up to the task,” she answered. At that moment, Rhaegal flew overhead followed by Drogon.  They landed near them, causing the group to duck at the large shadows that fell to the ground. Daenerys walked towards them and Arya followed her.

 

“How do you command them?” Arya asked as they grew closer to the two beasts.  The black one was considerably larger than the other. Their scales almost seemed to shine in the sunlight.

 

Daenerys looked over at her and back to the dragons. “It depends. They’re easier to control if they’d eaten recently. They only respond to High Valyrian.”

 

Arya scoffed. “Jon does not speak High Valyrian.”

 

She looked over at Arya. “Yes, I gathered that.”

 

“I’m sorry about your other dragon,” Arya said softly. “I’ve lost family as well.”

 

Daenerys frowned. “Both of us have lost brothers, our mothers, and our fathers. Let’s hope we don’t lose anyone else.”

  
“This is war, your grace. Loss is expected.”  She saw Daenerys stop as the black dragon moved closer and nuzzled her with his snout.  She smoothed her hand over him and he eyed Arya. She turned her eyes from the dragon and to the dragon queen who was actually watching Jon. “Jon said you’re going to take the Iron Throne together. How is that going to work, exactly?”

 

Daenerys sighed and dropped her hand from the dragon. “Not that I’ve discussed it with him at length, simply a mutual understanding that we want to be at one another's side as equals.”

 

“So, marriage, then?”

 

Daenerys nodded and smiled at Arya. “Yes.”

 

“Why do you have to get married?” she questioned. “If you’re going to make a new world, don’t you make the rules?”

 

Arya watched the surprised expression on the other woman’s face, but then her smile. “I suppose we do. However, considering my claim on the throne and Jon’s, it would be easier for loyalties to us not to be divided.”

 

She watched the Dragon Queen as she moved over to the green dragon and pet him in the same way did the first. She moved closer and sighed. “You love him. Jon, that is.”

 

Daenerys seemed interested in her hand moving over the scales of her dragon and then turned to Arya. “I do. I haven’t said as much to him, though, I think he knows.”

 

“That’s why you went after him North,” Arya said with an understanding tilt of her head. “But you weren’t together.”

 

“No,” Daenerys admitted. “I don’t think even I realized I loved him. At least not then.”

 

“When?”

 

Daenerys frowned and she looked over at Jon who was speaking with Lord Manderly and Lord Glover. Arya glanced at her brother and then back at the dragon queen. “When I saw what he would do to protect people. What he would give up.”

 

“His life,” Arya said softly. “He’s always been destructive, that way.”

 

Daenerys chuckled and nodded. “His men killed him, his bannermen turned their backs on him when he needed them to take Winterfell, and he came south to see a Dragon Queen to make her understand that they needed to join forces.” She looked over at Arya and smiled. “How could I not fall in love with _that_ man?”

 

“Sansa accused me of loving Jon more than her,” she rolled her eyes. “My sister has a flair for the dramatic sometimes. But I’ve felt an affinity for Jon because I felt like an outcast, too. I never thought there would be anyone who would deserve him. But I suppose if there had to be someone, it would be the Mother of Dragons.”

 

Daenerys smiled and looked at Arya. “Thank you. And since you’ve been very honest and open with me, let me ask you a question.” Arya nodded. “What is your relationship with Gendry?”

 

Arya turned her eyes from Daenerys to the dragon. “There is no relationship. We knew one another years ago.”

 

“There’s more to it than that, though,” Daenerys said with a smile. “At least, on your part.”

 

“How do you know that?”

 

“It’s my job as a queen to notice these things. You also quickly left the room when he arrived.”

 

She sighed and frowned. “He didn’t tell Jon we knew one another. I needed time to process that he was alive. For years I thought he was dead and I simply needed to get over him.”

 

Daenerys tilted her head at the younger girl and frowned. “It’s easier to say than to do; get over someone you love. I didn’t think after the Khal I would ever find someone I could love again.”

 

Arya was confused. She had heard Daenerys say that the Khal had hurt her, raped her. Yet she loved him? Sansa had been raped as well, but she fed Ramsay Bolton to his own dogs. “He raped you, though.”

 

She nodded. “He did. But...it's more complicated than that. It was difficult for me when I was sold off by _my_ _brother_ to Drogo. Viserys wanted Drogo’s army, a full Khalasar. He would do anything to get his army and he didn’t care how much it hurt me or what I wanted.” She paused for a moment, her silver hair whipping in the wind and looked at the tents that sat on the land of the North. Dothraki tents. “I don’t think Drogo was ever cruel to me on purpose. Dothraki don’t know another way other than to mount women like animals. I had a decision to make as to whether I was going to be a victim or I was going to rule, be the Khaleesi I was meant to be. I got some helpful advice on how to tame my husband and I fell in love with him in the process.” She looked at Arya then. “And a witch killed him.”

 

“What did you do?”

 

“I burned her alive,” she answered. “I put my dragon eggs into his funeral pyre, tied her to it, and I walked into the fire with my husband. When it all burned away, she and he were gone, but in their place, I had my children. Drogon, Rhaegal and Viscerion.”

 

“Why would you name one of your dragons after your brother that sold you?”

 

She hesitated for a moment and then sighed. “For so long it was just Viserys and I. And as much as I hated him, I loved him, too. He was my brother and for a very long time, the only family I had.”

 

“Now you have Jon.”

 

She smiled and looked over at the King in the North who was approaching them. “And now I have Jon,” she agreed.

 

“Davos spoke with Gendry. He’s recruited men to help him build the Scorpions based on the drawings Bronn and Jaime provided.”

 

“Do you think he could have four of them built in that amount of time?” Daenerys asked.

 

Jon smiled weakly. “If he can run back to Eastwatch and get word to you, I’m willing to give him some faith.” He turned and looked at Arya. “A word?” Jon asked and Arya followed him away from Daenerys who moved back to Tyrion and Jaime as they stood to examine the landscape of where the battle would take place.

 

“How do you know Gendry?”

 

Arya rolled her eyes. “I didn’t realize it was so obvious that I did.”

 

“When you left this morning, I didn’t think anything of it. But the look on his face when he saw you enter with Bran, and the one on yours, told me you knew one another.”

 

“A long time ago.”

 

He looked uncomfortable with the conversation and Arya almost laughed at how it seemed to pain Jon to ask a question. “In what...way?”

 

She smiled then, unable to control it. “Gendry never touched me. Do you think he would have hands if he did?”

 

Jon nodded and smiled. “I hear you’re formidable with your sword.”

 

Arya shrugged. “I hear you came back from the dead. How true is that?”

 

“True,” he said and looked at the ground.

 

“I hope you killed the traitors.”

 

He nodded and whispered. “I did. You and I have a lot of catching up to do.”

 

She nodded and looked at Daenerys. “Yes, we do. How is it that the former bastard of Winterfell not only became King in the North but also the lover of the Queen of Dragons?”

 

“I didn’t realize it was so obvious that I was,” he parroted back.

 

She smirked. “You’re terrible at hiding it. Both of you. Chasing after her when she learned of her dragons fate, you’re going to rule the Seven Kingdoms together, and the longing looks you keep giving one another are a dead give away. I’m sure anyone who has been around the two of you for longer than a few minutes has sussed it out. Sansa and I did when you first arrived.”

 

He heaved a sigh. “I don’t know how comfortable I am with my sisters discussing my love life behind my back.”

 

Arya’s smile turned wicked. “We can discuss it in front of you if you like.”

 

He paused and chuckled. “Behind my back is fine. What of Gendry?”

 

She asked defensively, “What of him?”

 

“You want him guarding your back in the courtyard. You trust him and I get the feeling that you don’t trust anyone anymore.”

 

She shrugged. “He earned my trust a long time ago.”

 

“How did he do that?”

 

“He saved my life a time or two. Protected me when I didn’t think I needed protecting.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “He seems to be a good man.”

 

“He is. Second to only one I know,” she answered.

 

Jon and Arya began walking back to the group, allowing the moment to hang between them. Her affection for Jon had been clear throughout the years they grew up together. He was always the one to treat her with respect and knew of her longing to be a knight. It’s why he had Needle made for her, always encouraging her to pursue what made her happy and not allow the fact that she was a girl to hinder her. Arya didn’t think he ever thought she would become the faceless man that she was, but she also didn’t see him questioning it.

 

“Queen Daenerys is going to ask the Dothraki to help dig the trenches,” Tyrion told Jon as he and Arya joined them.

 

Jon nodded. “Do you think they will?”

 

Jorah smiled. “Dothraki will do as their Khaleesi commands.”

 

They all began walking back to their horses and Jaime looked at Daenerys. “How did a Targaryen end up the Khaleesi to a horde of Dothraki screamers?”

 

She stopped walking and they all did as well. She looked over at Tyrion, and Jorah, but settled on Jaime. “I burned all the Khals alive and walked out of the fire,” she said, her tone leaving no guess that she was being honest.

 

“All the Khals?”

 

“And their blood riders,” Jorah provided. “I was there to witness it. The Dothraki serve the Queen of Dragons, the Unburnt. She walked out of the flames and they bent the knee to her then and there.”

 

“The Unsullied,” Arya asked?

 

They arrived back at their horses and Jorah began speaking. “She tricked the master of Astapor. Promised him a dragon slave in exchange for his eight thousand Unsullied. It’s how she also acquired Messandie, as she was Kraznys mo Nokloz's interpreter. Little did we all realize that it wasn’t just words or phrases that the queen knew of High Valyrian. She speaks it fluently. She heard everything that cretin said, and none of it had been kind. When the Unsullied were hers, she ordered them to kill all the masters, and Drogon roasted the Astapor soldiers alive.”

 

“You burn a lot of people,” Jaime commented.

 

“Only those who deserve it,” she said as she climbed onto her horse and looked at Jaime. “Try not be someone who deserves it, Ser Jaime,” she said before she took her horse and rode off to Winterfell. Arya smiled and followed behind her with Jon and the others.

 

*~*

 

She walked down the stairs and stopped outside the cracked door of the hall, leaning against the stone at hearing men laugh. From the voices, she could make out it was Sandor, Tyrion, Podrick, Bronn, Beric and Tormund. They all sounded disgustingly drunk. Men and their ales.

 

“How is it that you were married to Sansa Stark and you never fucked her?” Sandor asked, nearly slurring his words.

 

Tyrion spoke. “Because I don’t believe in forcing a woman who is repulsed by me.”

 

“He also had a whore on the side. Rather daring to have her as your wife’s maid,” Bronn retorted.

 

“How did the subject get turned to me when we were discussing Podrick and his magic way of making whores give away their cunts for free?” Tyrion asked.

 

The room was silent and then Sandor’s voice sounded. “This fucker?”

 

“That fucker,” Bronn answered. “As a reward for saving Tyrion’s life at Blackwater, he bought three of the best whores in all King’s Landing for young Pod. And the man brought _all the gold back_.”

 

Tormund’s voice sounded this time. “You got a magic cock, boy?”

 

“More like our young Podrick is proficient at the Lord’s Kiss, wet and glorious as it is,” Tyrion said to which a few laughed, one of which was the Hound.

 

“Three separate women?” The hound asked. Podrick, however, remained silent. “How do you know any of this is true?”

 

Bronn’s voice sounded. “I fucking asked them! You think I would take anyone’s word for that?”

 

“Arya,” she heard behind her and turned to find Brienne and all the men in the other room went silent. “What are you doing?”

 

“I was...going to the kitchens. Gendry hasn’t eaten,” she said as she opened the door and strode passed the men in the room and she knew Brienne had entered behind her as Tormund stood and offered her a smile. She hid her own, thinking that the Wilding might be well suited to Brienne of Tarth.

 

*~*

 

Arya moved into the forge and found Gendry bending a piece of metal across his anvil. His true name could make him more if Jon or Daenerys would legitimize him. None of it mattered to her anyway. He was Gendry. _Her_ Gendry. She didn’t know why she felt so possessive of him. She hadn’t seen him in years, and though she had admitted to Sansa that she had once loved him, she wasn’t sure how it was possible to still feel that way after all this time.

 

Gendry confused her. There were times that he would look at her and she would feel flushed throughout her neck and face. Some sort of twinkle in his ever blue eyes and she was lost to the look of him. Feeling such as these were dangerous. Nothing was more dangerous than love and lust. Even hatred and anger could be curved into something useful when it came to taking a life. Love made you want to change because how could anyone love such a monster that could so ruthlessly kill?

 

“Shut the door,” he said, his back to her as he had turned to put the point back into the fire. “Wind’s going to cause the fire to die,” he said as he glanced over his shoulder at her. She did close it and moved to the bench near the table where he worked. There were ten other identical spears on a rack beside the wall.

 

She thought he would probably work through the night. Arya reached into the bag at her hip and placed a wrapped loaf of bread on the table for him as well as a cask of wine. “I thought you might be hungry. You weren’t in the hall for dinner.”

 

He used a cloth and wiped the tip of the spear off and then set it beside the others.  He rolled his shoulders and then stretched them over his head, causing the bottom of his tunic to ride up just enough to give her a view of the muscles of his abdomen and she flashed to when she’d been a child and watched him forge swords without his shirt on. She’d been only a girl, but even then she knew what a beautiful man he was. He’d been covered in soot, his hair sticking up in every direction as he eyed his handiwork while she eyed him.

 

“I don’t know how you lived in the North for so long. I don’t feel like I’ll ever be warm again,” he commented as he tore a chunk of the bread off and then took a bite.

 

She sat on his workbench and opened the cask of wine and held it out to him and he took it gratefully. “The South was too warm for me,” she commented. “You didn’t hear me bitching about it.”

 

“If one more person accuses me of whinging or bitching I’m going to use one of these bloody spears to end their life.”

 

She smiled.  “We’ve been through this, you can’t take me.” He chewed the bite in his mouth and didn’t say anything but the look on his face told her he wanted to. Instead, he stared at her hands which were folded in her lap and another drink of wine. “How much more are you going to make?”

 

“Until I’m out of materials,” he responded, but he put his back to her again. “Never know how many shots it will take to bring a dragon down. We start on the Scorpions in an hour.”

 

“Right person on the weapon and it shouldn’t take that many spears, right?”

 

Gendry turned to face her. “I don’t know. I know that the big black dragon was hit on a field of battle and still managed to destroy the weapon that struck it and nearly killed Jaime Lannister. It hardly stopped flying,” he responded. “But then, beyond the wall, one of them fell. All of this is over my head and station,” he commented.

 

She heard the bitterness in his tone and decided to question him on it. “What does that mean?”

 

He sighed. “I’m back to being a smith.”

 

“Davos suggested you and your skills. I agreed with him. Thought your skill was the one they needed...”

 

“But that’s just it, isn’t it? My only contribution to this world is making weapons. Not wielding one.”

 

She sighed this time and shook her head. “You’re being stupid. If they really thought that, why would they put you in the courtyard with me when the fighting starts?”

 

“Because of you, I’m sure. Did you give them the chance to argue?”

 

She paused and realized she hadn’t. How was it he was still able to read her and her intentions so well? “No, because it’s a good plan. Who would watch my back better than you?”

 

Gendry leaned against the bench and frowned. “No one.”

 

“Exactly. And if Jon only thought of you as a smith, do you think he would allow me to sway his decision on who would be there with his sister?” She smiled. “Jon thinks more of you than what you think of yourself.”

 

“He’s a good man.”

 

“I’d been telling you that for years.”

 

He winced. “All of this goes back to how can someone so small be such a pain in my ass,” he asked? Though he sounded annoyed, he didn’t do a very good job of keeping the smile off his face. He lifted his smithing hammer and heaved another block of dragon glass onto the bench, causing her to move over a bit, putting her closer to where he’d be standing once he began working.  She reached for the loaf and pulled another piece off and held it out to him and he took it from her and popped it into his mouth as he stood beside her and reached for his chisel.

 

“Jon and the queen are sleeping together,” she blurted, unsure of why she told him.

 

He put the hammer onto of the piece of stone and looked over at her. He sighed and tilted his head. He didn’t look surprised, though. “Are you unhappy about this?”

 

Arya shook her head. “No. I like Daenerys. She’s exactly what I always pictured a Targaryen princess to be. Fierce. Commanding. A dragon,” she finished and then looked at her hands. “Though, she is shorter...”

 

“So, what’s wrong?” he asked.

 

She looked at him, tilting her head and wondering exactly what his reaction would be to the next part. “Sex.”

 

Gendry blinked at her for a moment and then shook his head. “I’m not doing it. I’m not having a conversation with _you_ about _sex_.”

 

She furrowed her brow as he turned away from her and grabbed a heavier hammer. “Why?”

 

He leveled a glare at her, but it answered none of her questions. She couldn’t talk to Sansa about it as she already smirked and smiled at Arya every time Gendry was mentioned. Her sister thought it was a great new sport to see how red Arya’s ears could turn when Gendry was caught watching her. She contemplated ‘sheep shitting’ Sansa’s bed again for retribution.

 

“For one, it’s not appropriate. You’re a lady, whether you like to acknowledge it or not. I’m a bastard, of a king, yes, but as of this moment, I’m a smith working on weapons for your _brother_. The true King. Second,” he heaved a sigh, “I don’t want to talk about sex with you. It’s strange and I don’t want to.”

 

“First,” she mocked, “I realize I’m a Lady, I just hate being one. And I know who you are and I don’t need a reminder about that either. And second, who else am I supposed to talk to? Pod?”

 

“No!” he huffed out a breath. “Arya, can’t you find a...female?”

 

“Who? Sansa? She was raped by Ramsay Bolton and won’t even talk about all the things that happened to her, so she’s out. Brienne? She’s as much a maid as I am, so no help there. The dragon queen, maybe? She is, after all, the one fucking my brother. I suppose I could talk to her...”

 

He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her directly in the face. “Please stop.”

 

“Why?”

 

He hung his head. “Arya, how is it that everyone else in this keep understands about...Everyone already thinks that we had an inappropriate relationship. If someone overheard our conversation it would make it worse.”

 

“Why do you care what they think about you?”

 

He shook his head, exasperated. “I don’t! I care what they think about you!”

 

“You’re going to have to explain better.”

 

He released her and stepped back. “Get out.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “No. Not until you explain yourself.”

 

“The fact that I have to explain myself is part of the problem,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

She hung her head, unable to hide her frustration. “You’re my only friend. The only person, besides Jon, that I feel like doesn’t judge me for who I am. I came to you because I thought you would be understanding.”

 

He tossed the hammer onto the bench beside her and hung his head as well. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

 

Her gray eyes met his blue ones. “You don’t mind me asking?”

 

“I mind a great deal, but I won’t have you run off angry with me or with questions and have you ask or say something to the wrong person for someone to take advantage of how little you know.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “No one touches me unless I want them to,” she responded. “But I do have questions.”

 

“I’ll answer what I can, I suppose,” he said, though his tone told her he didn’t want any part of this conversation.

 

“What’s the Lord’s Kiss?”

 

Gendry pursed his lips together and then shook his head.  “No, I was right, I can’t do this,” he said as he lifted his head.

 

“You once told me to pull my cock out and take a piss, you can’t tell me what the Lord’s Kiss is?”

 

“I didn’t know you were high born...”

 

“Again with the lady stuff," she groaned in frustration. "Act like I’m one of the men at the pub. Explain it to me that way.”

 

He shook his head. “I’d rather explain it to the High Septon,” he said as he braced himself on the table, “Or to your brother, in a hall full of his bannermen, than explain it to you.”

 

She winced. “Is it bad? Is that why? Does it hurt?”

 

She thought it was endearing that there was now two matching patches of pink on his cheeks. Whatever it was, it made him uncomfortable.  “Alright,” he started, “I need to know the context in which you heard of it?”

 

“Bronn was teasing Podrick about being the best at the Lord’s Kiss so that whores wouldn’t take his money.”

 

Gendry furrowed his brow. “Bronn said this?”

 

“Fine, it was Tyrion. And then there was laughing and Brienne caught me listening to them and they stopped talking once they realized I was there. So, I know this much, it has to do with sex and it’s messy or..wet,” she trailed off and then turned her curious eyes to Gendry who looked nearly the color of the Targaryen’s red dragons on Daenerys’ banners.

 

“Both, actually,” he grunted. At her prodding look, Gendry swallowed hard. “It’s when...I can’t have you look at me while I tell you.”

 

“So you want me to close my eyes?”  


He sighed. “No, I want you to leave so we can pretend we never had this conversation,” he mumbled. He must have realized she wasn't leaving and he sighed. “Yes. Close your eyes.”

 

She gave him a critical look but then closed her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it is mean to end it there. But I never said I was nice!


	11. Gendry II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keep moving forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got stuff I have to do tomorrow, and I don't know when I will be around, so here's the next chapter.

**GENDRY**

 

He was going to hit Podrick squarely with his hammer as soon as he saw him.  Bronn and Tyrion, too.  And as he watched her, sitting on the bench in the forge, waiting for his explanation, he realized that having her eyes closed did nothing to make this easier. “Alright, so the Lord’s Kiss,” he started, “is...” he hesitated, trying to make it not sound so vulgar, but knew there wasn’t a way. “When a man kisses a woman’s cunt.”

 

Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. “People do that?”

 

He chuckled. “Aye.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it feels good,” he responded.

 

She furrowed her brow and tilted her head. “Have you done it?”

 

He was silent and wanted to jump into the fire to avoid answering the question. It was a near impossible question to answer as he didn’t know if he would actually be able to form the words.  He glanced at her and could see that she was staring at him expectantly.  “Yes.”

 

“Did you like it?”

 

“Not as much as she did,” he answered.

 

She frowned. “Then why do it?”

 

He sighed, wishing to get out of the seemingly endless conversation. “Because she liked it. All of it is easier when a woman is wet down there.”

 

“And that works for that?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“What’s it like?”

 

He groaned and glared at her.  “I’m done discussing this.”

 

She must have realized that she was pushing her luck in getting him to answer questions about this particular subject and so she changed her questioning track. “How many women have you had?”

 

He lowered his head and then looked at her. “Two.”

 

“Who were they?” she asked, and there seemed to be a tinge of anger to her voice, but he ignored it.  “Did you love them?”

 

He scoffed. “No. They were just...no one important.”

 

“They were paid?”

 

“One was. The other...I don’t want to talk about.”

 

  
“So, you’re not as good as Pod?”

 

He felt his hackles rise at his sexual prowess being compared to the squire of Brienne of Tarth.  “Apparently not.”

 

“Maybe I should ask him...”

 

“You will not,” he insisted angrily.

 

“Why won’t I?”

 

“Arya...”

 

Arya frowned. “You’ve acted very strangely about this entire thing.  We’re friends, why can’t we talk about this and, if not you, then why do you have such a problem with me talking to Pod about it?”

 

“Because I don’t want you to get the bad idea to have him show you,” he blurted and immediately regretted it due to the look on her face.  He put his back to her and used a rag to clean off the head of his hammer and tried to control the anger that threatened to overtake him at the thought of the squire with Arya teaching her all the things that she shouldn’t learn from someone like him.  He didn’t hear her climb down from the bench, but suddenly she moved into his line of sight and made him stand up straight to look at her. 

 

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t ask him to show me,” she whispered.

 

“You need to go,” he whispered, his eyes moved from her lips to her eyes and he knew that this was getting into a very dangerous territory.

 

“Why?” the softly whispered word was nearly enough to break his carefully constructed self-control.

 

“Because  _ I’m _ going to get the bad idea to show you,” he said honestly, softly.

 

She shook her head and smiled. “I think that’s a great idea.”

 

“Your brother would kill me,” he whispered.

 

“We won’t tell him,” she responded and took the hammer and rag from his hands and dropped them to the ground.

 

It was hard to breathe with her so close and the feel of her skin against his caused him to swallow thickly. It was unfair of her to taunt him so when he had so little control around her as it was. “Arya...” he warned but she was standing on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

 

“Just between us,” she whispered against his lips.  What little restraint he had just died a fiery death.  He cupped her face in his hands while hers moved over the broad expanse of his back. He backed her to the bench and she pulled him against her harder. His tongue swept against hers and she released a gasp at the same time she thrust her hips against his. He groaned against her mouth and she smiled against his lips.

 

The door to the forge opened slightly and someone called to someone else, springing Arya and Gendry away from one another.  He looked at the door as she moved back to her perch on the bench.  It looked to be Bronn and Podrick and Gendry balled his fists at his side for them causing all of this in the first place.

 

Podrick smiled at both of them, but Gendry couldn’t wipe the scowl from his face.  Arya smiled back at the squire which only caused Gendry to scowl harder, clenching his hammer in his fist and tried to convince himself that killing the unarmed squire would be murder and would require a lengthy explanation.  Instead, he lifted his hammer and banged it into the rock beside Arya, trying to get a piece he could work with.

 

Bronn entered behind Podrick and smiled.  “How many spears do you have made?”

 

“Ten,” he answered.  

 

“We need at least ten for each of the Scorpions,” he sighed and picked one up from the rack and examined the sharp tip. “These are well done,” Bronn said after a moment. “A lot of time in the forge?”

 

“My youth, Ser,” Gendry answered and Arya watched the sellsword. 

 

“My lady,” he said as he nodded his head at her and she rolled her eyes. He wanted both Podrick and Bronn to get out of the forge as he planned to spend the next hour exploring Arya with mouth and fingers and more if she’d let him. Bronn’s words brought him out of such thoughts, though, and he glanced at Arya who seemed none too happy at the interruption either. “I heard you didn’t like being called a lady.”

 

Podrick interrupted before Bronn could start a fight with the younger Stark girl. “We came because Ser Jaime wanted to know how long it would take to get ten for each weapon?”

 

“A few days.”

 

“You have three days,” Bronn answered.  “We’ll have to get the Scorpions mounted and test each of them. After that, the dead will be here.”

 

Gendry sighed and nodded.  “I’ll work faster. The other smiths will be here soon to start work on the Scorpions.”

 

Bronn nodded.  “Good man,” he said and then turned to Arya. He looked between Arya and Gendry, then grinned broadly as he looked to Arya.  “What  _ is _ a lady doing in the forge?”

 

Gendry turned his back to them as he began heating the steel. “I’m speaking with my friend.” He tried to act as if he was uninterested in the conversation, but the truth was he couldn’t stop listening if he wanted to. 

 

“About the fine art of weapon making?” Bronn asked, clearly he didn’t accept her answer and Gendry thought about insisting they both leave. That would be a bit obvious, he thought, and so he remained quiet and turned back to face them. 

 

Arya was having none of his blatant goading. “About how many throats I’ve slit,” Arya said flatly, and Gendry smirked to himself.

 

“I heard you were a ruthless killer.  Maybe you and I can compare notes one day on the finer points of killing a man.”

 

“Or I could show you the finest point I have,” she said as she showed him her knife.

 

Gendry was now watching her intently. Arya was deadlier than any person he knew, and if the sellsword rubbed her the wrong way she would kill him.  Bronn then chuckled.  “I like this girl.  I honestly believe she would kill me.”

 

Gendry moved closer to Arya and faced the sellsword and squire. “She would.”

 

Bronn smiled. “I think I need an ale.  Come along Pod.  Let’s see if you can get us a free night at the brothel in town,” he said as he ushered Podrick out of the forge.  

 

Arya suddenly turned her eyes to his. He waited for the door to shut before he stepped between her open legs and put calming hands on both of her knees, his eyes meeting hers. “I have a lot of weapons to make and I can’t have you in here distracting me.”

 

Gendry watched as she hesitated, her fingers slowly moving over the back of his hands and he shivered in response. Her whispered words only caused his cock to harden more for her, “But what about earlier? You’re not going to second guess that, are you?”

 

He heaved a sigh and knew that he wouldn’t deny her anything if she asked it of him, nor did he want to, but he did have work that had to be done. He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers as he spoke, “Consider it a reward for when I’m finished.”

 

She smiled slowly and nodded. “I’ll find you,” she said as she hopped down from the bench and walked to the door of the forge.  Gendry leaned against the bench and tried to ignore the erection still straining against the front of his leathers. Her words echoed in his head as he could still feel the strength of her thighs beneath his hands.  He knew it without question: she was going to be the death of him.

 

*~*

 

When the sun started to rise, Gendry truly thought he was going to fall asleep at any moment. He was both mentally and physically exhausted. They’d managed one complete Scorpion and had installed it at the top of one of the towers.  Several men had carried up the heavy bolts while he made last minute adjustments to the wheel.

 

“Is it tight?” Gendry asked from where he was on his knees beneath the Scorpion.

 

“Aye,” the other called.

 

“It’s a fine piece of work,” Jaime said as he exited to the tower with Bronn. “Is it ready to test?”

 

Gendry stepped back as did the other man and held out one of the bolts. Bronn took it from him and slid everything into place. He watched him move the weapon up and down, swiveled it in every direction causing him a moment of panic as the great bolt pointed at his head before it moved away. When Bronn finally fired the weapon, the bolt sailed out to the outer edge of the farthest trench. Bronn and Jaime both looked at Gendry.

 

“I have to admit, I had my doubts that they could be made so quickly,” Jaime quipped. “This is good work.” Gendry didn’t say thank you. The Lannisters were the ones who sought his death all because his father, the philandering King Robert, got his mother pregnant. No other reason to want him dead. “How many bolts do you have made?” 

 

“Twenty-two. We've had the apprentices working on them throughout the night. Most of the smiths and wood workers are making the Scorpions, though. I need to get back to the forge,” he said as he nodded at the other smith and they left Jaime and Bronn. 

 

However, they weren’t free of them for long and Jaime stopped him once they were in the center of the courtyard. “I’ve heard that you’re one of Robert’s bastards.”

 

“Aye.”

 

Jaime was silent and then he continued, “You look like him when he was younger.”

 

Gendry rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I’d be careful, my lord. There are a lot of people here who would gladly take your head.”

 

Jaime tilted his head at him, his eyes narrowing a bit. “Are you one of them?”

 

He smirked and taunted Jaime. “I don’t use a sword. I prefer a war hammer like my father. I’d simply bash it in,” he threatened.

 

A voice clearing caused them all to turn and see Arya, her hand on her sword. “Is there a problem?”

 

Gendry could feel Bronn looking at him with a smile and he nudged Jaime. “Ease off the boy. He’s worked through the night,” he cajoled. “You did good work, lad,” Bronn said as he began leading Jaime away from the youngest Stark girl and what she had clearly claimed as hers. 

 

Gendry nodded to the other smith to go back to the forge and he turned to Arya. “I don’t need you to stick up for me.”

 

“I wasn’t. But if Jaime stepped out of line, I’d deliver his head to my sister as she wants,” Arya said as she stepped forward. 

 

“Don’t do it on my account,” he said as he started walking back to the forge. “You’re up early.”

 

She stepped in front of him. “Trouble sleeping.”

 

“They make tea for that,” he responded.

 

“It’s your fault.”

 

His eyebrows rose in question. “How is it my fault?”

 

She stepped a little closer to him. “You see, ever since our conversation and the kiss, it’s all I can think about.” He turned away from looking at her to see how many people were watching them. He didn’t see any, so he stepped closer. “I think of you touching me, kissing me...and I’m incapable of sleep.”

 

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he whispered.

 

Her smile made him uneasy in the best way. “I like games.”

 

He gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists at his side. “Arya.”

 

She tilted her head, her expression innocent. “You should really get to work. I’m not sure how much longer I’ll allow you to be distracted from me,” she said as she turned and left him in the courtyard alone. He grunted as he turned and walked back into the forge to see the pieces of the next Scorpion laid out on the floor. 

 

“Three more. Three more,” he muttered. He looked out the window of the forge and saw her mount her horse and ride from the yard.  _ Three more and then there is no excuse or reason for me not to have you _ . 

  
  



	12. Daenerys II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussions with her counsel and Jon and Daenerys alone time. Ghost is there, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, chances are I won't be around tomorrow, either. However, that just means you get this update tonight. I hope you like it.

  
Artwork made by [thefuzzyaya](http://thefuzzyaya.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr

**DAENERYS**

 

Daenerys stood at one of the small slits in the wall of Winterfell that counted as windows. Varys, Tyrion, Jorah, Messandei, and Greyworm all sat at the table of the solar her retinue had been given. Tyrion appeared to be drunk when he’d arrived. She didn’t exactly blame him. Nothing they had planned had happened the way they thought. She never thought that losing a dragon was a possibility. She never thought they would fight someone other than Cersei. She never thought that she would actually find a man in this world that she felt was her equal.

 

She smiled to herself as she thought about the rough Northman who’d been sharing her bed. He was every bit the wolf that the Stark family held so proud, but now that she knew the truth about him and who he was, she knew that he was as much a dragon. In every way Viserys had been weak, small-minded, and cruel, Jon was not. He would make a fine ruler for the kingdom.

 

“Ser Jaime doesn’t appear to have many friends in the North,” Messandei said to the room. “Is it possible he’s here for a reason other than what he said?”

 

Daenerys knew Tyrion would squash the idea before it fully manifested into thoughts. “My brother is honorable. He wouldn’t lie about this.”

 

She turned then to look at Tyrion. “Why wouldn’t he? You say he’s honorable but he killed a king, carried on an affair with his sister and fathered her children that they then passed off as Robert’s, and he pushed a boy from a window. How honorable is he?” Daenerys questioned.

 

Tyrion frowned. “We all make mistakes, your grace. Some are greater than others,” he responded.

 

She sighed. “It seems to me that his mistakes cost a lot of people their lives.”

 

“In a way, so have mine,” he said as he looked at her. “Had I not killed my father, my niece and nephew may still be alive. Cersei wouldn’t have power. How much did that one mistake cost us all?”

 

“Do you consider it a mistake?”

 

Tyrion looked at the table in front of him and shook his head. “No. I’d do it again, even with all I know now.”

 

“Then it’s not a mistake,” she said as she sat in the chair beside Messandei. “Bad things happen during wars. People die. It’s an unfortunate aspect that I don’t like. But if we’re going to right the world, to fix the injustices and save these people, then we can’t second guess ourselves.”

 

“And this new world we’re going to build,” Tyrion questioned, “will you be building that with Jon Snow. Excuse me, Aegon Targaryen.”

 

She nodded. “I will. He knows what I want, what I expect. And he respects me as his queen as I respect him as king.”

 

Tyrion looked down into his glass and took a sip of his wine. Jorah had stopped looking at her and she felt guilty. She hoped that Jorah hadn’t come back with the hope they would be together. She loved him, but not the way he did her. She feared to lose him. But she was in love with Jon and there was no doubt in her mind about that.

 

“Everyone, please give me a moment alone with our queen,” Tyrion requested. Once everyone was gone, Daenerys leaned back in her chair and frowned. “I am happy that you found someone who loves you like the king does.”

 

“But?”

 

“But nothing. I know all you suffered, what you endured to get to this point in your life. Every moment more incredible than the one before.”

 

“You’re really drunk aren’t you?” she questioned and he nodded. “Good. I think it’s high time you told me why you killed your father.”

 

He winced. “I don’t know that I’m that drunk,” he responded.

 

“I order you,” she said, though there was no bite or malice to her tone.

 

“And if I refuse?”

 

She smiled. “Why chance it?”

 

He drank down the rest of the wine in his goblet and then poured more. “My father hated me from the moment I was born. Made me feel like I was less of a Lannister because I was...less of a man,” he huffed out. “Cersei hated me because I killed our mother when I came into the world. And together, the two of them did everything they could to break me, to make me _feel_ like the imp of Casterly Rock. They probably would have succeeded had Jaime not been there. Even when they were at their worst, he and I were brothers. He treated me like a brother, not a burden.” Tyrion swallowed a lump in his throat and continued to speak, though his voice broke more and more as he went on. “My father wanted me dead, but not enough to actually kill me. But when given the opportunity to do it, to have me publically executed and denounce me as his family, he took it. It didn’t matter what else happened, he was going to see me dead.”

 

Daenerys could see that this was painful, and she wanted him to stop. But she had to know why he’d turned on his family. She had to know why he’d really decided to come to her.

 

“Jaime released me. I simply went to tell my father I was leaving and he would never have to see me again. He’d always made me feel like less of a man because I sought the company of whores. Always made himself seem as if he was above it. And when I walked into his room and saw her, I realized I was more my father’s son than he ever wanted to admit. Shae turned on me. I loved her and sent her away for her own good so they wouldn’t kill her, and she turned me because of it. And there she was. In his bed, sleeping.” He took another sip of wine and held the goblet in his hand instead of letting it rest on the table. “I killed her, too.” At that, he drank down his wine again and she lifted the cask to pour him more and he smiled at her. “I killed my father because I hated him. I hated him because he was still my father and he would have rather seen me dead for a crime he knew I didn’t commit than to let me live with his name.”

 

They were both silent for a long moment and she sighed. “I smothered Drogo,” she said softly. “It was more for mercy. He would have hated how weak he was. But I still put a pillow over his face and ended his life,” she said softly. “I’ve burned countless people alive, had men crucified, and would do it all again the same way,” she said and reached for her own goblet of wine and drained the cup. "And after everything I've suffered, all the people who have died, that's the one I hated most," she whispered. "Even if it was for his own benefit."

 

“Maybe the two of us horrible children of horrible fathers were meant to find one another and fix this world together.”

 

She smiled and nodded. “I certainly hope so. Although, if the dead win, none of this matters.”

 

Tyrion looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry about Viscerion. I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you.”

 

She shook her head. “You told me not go. I didn’t listen.”

 

“You’d still do that over again?”

 

“Yes,” she said softly. “I had to see it. You had to see it. The dead are our true enemy.”

 

“My sister is no slouch,” he answered. “What happens when we defeat the army of the dead? Do you believe Jon will ride South with you?”

 

She nodded. “I do.”

 

“What about his men?”

 

“I don’t know. I hope my willingness to fight for them could sway them to my side. But the North seems to not go by what I consider to be traditional standards.”

  
“You’re hardly traditional, your grace,” Tyrion said with a smile. “Maybe that’s what they will look towards when this has ended and Daenerys Targaryen, her armies, and her dragons have saved them all.”

 

She smiled. “I will rule the Seven Kingdoms. I will do it with Jon at my side and you as my Hand,” she said finally.

 

“Do you need me if you have him?” Tyrion questioned and she realized that any reservations he had about her and Jon were actually centered around _his_ role. He’d been cast aside so many times in his life, that he probably thought her to be like everyone else.  


She nodded with a smile. “Yes. You know me and my impulses. Jon seems to have similar impulses. I need you to temper us both.”

 

“A wolf and dragon? I don’t know how I’ll manage one, let alone both.”

 

“I have faith in you,” she said as she sipped at her wine. “I’m going to retire to my chamber. Don’t drink anymore,” she said as she stood and left the room.

 

She stepped into her room and smiled to see Ghost in front of the fire. “How did you get in here?” she asked and realized Jon was standing beside her window and looked at her, a smile on his face.

 

“Sorry, he follows me sometimes.”

 

She shook her head and removed the pin from her hair and moved to sit at her vanity. “You don’t have to apologize for anything,” she said as she began removing the braids from her hair. “Your sister, Arya, is an impressive young woman,” she remarked as she felt the tension of the braids uncoil at the back of her head. They looked beautiful, but by nightfall, her head usually ached.

 

He sat at the edge of the bed and she could see he’d already removed his boots and there was something intimate about it that she couldn’t describe. He’d been in her room waiting for her, and he’d made himself comfortable. “Believe it or not I don’t think she’s changed all that much. She was always scrappy, now it appears she has the skills to go with her fighting spirit.”

 

Daenerys released the last braid and moved her fingers through her hair and felt him stand behind her. His calloused fingers along her neck caused her to shiver as she caught his eyes in the mirror and she already felt the familiar heat that seemed to coil in her belly whenever he looked at her. He moved to his knee beside her and smiled. She ran her fingers over his jaw and leaned her forehead against his. “Blood of my blood,” she whispered. She slid her fingers along his jaw and to where his curls were tied back from his face to remove the band that held them in place.  She kissed him then and he pulled her to the edge of her seat to move between her parted thighs.

 

She helped him remove his heavy doublet and then the black shirt beneath it. Daenerys sighed while she traced over the scar at his chest and frowned. “I sometimes wonder how we both managed to get here,” she said softly and her eyes met his. “We should both be dead. Yet, here we are together, ready to take on the coming night,” she said with a sigh.

 

She felt his hands at the laces of her coat and his lips danced along her throat. “I’m not going to question it. Someone might get the notion to take you away from me.” She shrugged out of the coat and he helped her out of dress as she stood to let it pool at her feet. Her boots were last and his lips moved over her hips to her belly. Her fingers danced through his hair and bit her bottom lip, containing a moan as he flicked his tongue out to taste her folds.

 

“Jon,” she moaned, his hands sliding up from her calves and the back of her knees. She thought she would collapse at the tickle of his fingers along her skin. He pushed back on her and she was seated on the chair once more. He brought her thigh over his shoulder and bit and nipped at the soft skin. He pushed her back until she could clearly see his eyes as his tongue flicked out against her. Her body bowed against him, seeking more pressure, more of everything. His hands held her down, though, not letting her move her hips to get what she wanted. She fisted her hands in his hair and panted his name even as she felt his tongue dip into her cunt, lapping at her need for him.

 

_Love comes in at the eyes_. Said years ago to her, about someone different, but she knew she loved him simply by the look in his eyes. She panted his name and he released her hips to remove his pants and she ached to have him inside her. If she was capable of words, she would have told him, but when he sucked her clit into his mouth everything flew from her head but the need to reach her climax. She fell over the edge when she realized he was touching himself.  His name fell from her lips on a long moan, and if she was capable, she would have worried that everyone in the tower would know what they were doing. As it was, all she could think about was the man between her thighs lapping at her cunt. She pushed him back and crawled into his arms, her mouth taking his in a long kiss. When he’d first done this, the first man to ever do this, she thought she wouldn’t want his kiss afterward. She’d been wrong. All she wanted for the rest of her life was to taste herself on his tongue. Her wolf and dragon. He was both. He was everything.

 

*~*

 

In the early morning hours, Daenerys stirred and reached out for Jon but found the bed beside her empty. She lifted her head and turned to see him fully dressed and pulling on his boots. He had obviously relit the fire and she could see the form of Ghost sleeping in front of it.  She looked to the window to see that the sun wasn’t up. “What are you doing?”

 

He looked up at the sound of her voice and moved to sit beside her on the bed once he’d pulled his other boot on. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said and brushed her hair from her face.

 

“Well, you did so you have to stay,” she whispered and pulled him against her, kissing his lips as he smiled.

 

He broke the kiss, laced his fingers with hers and then brought them up to his lips to kiss. “You won’t sleep if I’m pacing around the room.”  She tilted her head at him and he frowned. “I’m worried,” he answered. “And sleep seems like something that’s foreign to me at this point.”  His voice was little more than a whisper, but she heard the anxious tone and she wished she could make it disappear.

 

She leaned her forehead against his and smiled. “I could distract you.”

 

He chuckled and nodded. “You do. Very well, I might add,” he said kissing her again.

 

“Who will warm my bed if you go wandering through the castle?”

 

He turned and looked at the floor. “Ghost,” he called and the giant wolf moved from his spot by the fire to take up the empty place beside Daenerys.  

 

She reached out to pet the great beast and his tongue lolled out as she stroked her fingers through his fur.  He sniffed her hand and then moved to lay on the bed beside her, filling the space Jon had abandoned.  “This is much better,” she smiled and teased Jon. “He snores less than you.”

 

He furrowed his brow, a smile on his face. “I should feel offended that I’m so easily replaced.”

 

Her eyes met his again and she brought his lips to hers, her tongue slipped out to taste his lips and he growled against her. She pulled back from his kiss but kept her forehead against his and rubbed his nose with hers. “No one could ever take your place,” she whispered. “Not now.”

 

“Nor yours,” he whispered. “I’ll be back soon.” He looked to the direwolf currently occupying his pillow.  “And I’ll have my place back,” he said to the wolf that made a noise that almost sounded as a scoff. “You’ve already bewitched my wolf.”

 

She moved her fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and brushed her lips against his. “You’ve bewitched me. Is that a fair trade?”

 

He smiled. “Aye. I’ll find some way to live with that,” he teased.

 

He kissed him again, never able to have her fill of him. “Don’t be gone long.”

 

He placed a lingering kiss on her lips and he stood, donned his cloak, and took Longclaw with him.  The door thudded closed behind him and she looked over at the great wolf which was now taking up even a portion of her side of the bed.  “You have to learn to share the bed,” she said to the wolf which moved his paws to allow her to lie down.  She moved a hand through his fur and lay down on the pillow, his red eyes staring into her own.  She felt almost as if her soul was being weighed. “You’re considerate. Just like Jon,” she said softly.  Her hand continued to rub over his fur as she closed her eyes, letting sleep take her once more.


	13. Sansa III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has an argument with Jaime, but her knowledge of other people might save some lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By my current chapter progression, this should have been Jon, but look for things to start to get scrambled from here on out. So much to cover from so many perspectives

  


**SANSA**

 

Sansa moved into the hall and stopped at the table that had been placed in the middle with a large map spread out. It was still early, the gray light of dawn hardly illuminating the room. On the table, there were small wooden pieces scattered over the North of the map. Dragons, wolves, lions, horses, and bears all surrounding the Northern wall of Winterfell.  Two large black rings cut through the earth around the keep.  

 

One of the dragon figures was placed before the front ring, another in the middle with the wolves and lions near the gates.  Daenerys’ forces were obviously the first line of defense leaving the Northmen and the small contingent of Lannister forces to defend the walls of the keep.  Looking at it now made it all the more real.  War was once more coming to the gates of Winterfell.  

 

“It’s a clever plan.”  She turned to see Jaime standing in the doorway, his armor removed and left only in his doublet.  He looked much smaller without all the metal.  Not like the knight that commanded so much attention from the others.  “I wish I could say it had been mine.”

 

“Maybe you’re not as valuable as they thought,” she said meanly. She’d been cautioned by everyone in Winterfell to not be so harsh to him. The North remembered. Even if everyone else chose to forget what had happened, Sansa didn’t. People forgetting the sins of others is what had led to the downfall of her family in the first place. Trusting others who sought their ruin had caused her mother and brother to die, caused her marriage to Ramsay. She couldn’t forget so easily.  

 

He frowned. “Remember, it wasn’t I who thought I was valuable.”

 

“Tyrion would never allow them to kill you. He’s a lot of things, but one thing I’ve always known about him is that he loved you. Whether you deserve his faith in you or not is up for debate.”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “He killed my father.”

 

“And your son killed mine. Your family’s clever little plans killed my father, my mother, and my brother. You nearly killed my little brother. Should I forget all of that because you finally learned how to stand up to Cersei?" She could feel the angry fire in her belly that nearly consumed her whenever he was present. "What _did_ it finally take for you to realize the sort of monster you’ve protected your entire life?”

 

He took several steps forward and was nearly in her face. “She backed out of her promise for aid. And she threatened to kill me.”

 

“She’s threatened to kill a lot of people.  And she’s carried through on those threats." She'd threatened to have her killed, even thought to send Jaime after her. Jaime had sent Brienne to find and protect her. Still, if Cersei had really demanded it, Sansa doubted as to whether or not she would still be alive. "What did you do when she blew up the Sept of Baelor? Did you question her? Did you chastise her for killing all of those people?” His jaw tightened as he looked away and didn't answer, once more confirming what she thought of him. She narrowed her eyes. “You didn’t. You bit your tongue and let others suffer for her. For your dearest love," she mocked. "How many people died?”

 

She could see the muscle in his jaw tick as he tilted his head. She wondered if he even thought of the loss of life. She wondered if he was capable of thinking about anything or anyone besides himself. “They were people plotting our downfall...”

 

“People she put into power to rid herself of Margaery or hadn’t you thought of that? The beautiful, young, vibrant queen that was beloved by the people against your sister who the people despised. And they should. She would lock herself into her castle and pretend that none of this is happening!” Sansa nearly shouted at him. “And you’ve protected her!  You’ve helped her get to where she is!  How could you do that?” she hissed. “How could you turn a blind eye to all that she did?”

 

Jaime’s shoulders sagged and he lowered his head and whispered, “I had to. I-I loved her. I would have done anything to protect her and...she still tried to have me killed. She’s too far gone for any of us to save.” He frowned and moved over to the fire. “I didn’t know about the Sept until after. When I got back to King’s Landing it was a burning ruin and she was being crowned queen,” he answered. “She didn’t even have the decency to tell me about Tommen. One of the guards...”

 

Sansa considered what he said. Her hatred for Cersei burned in her chest and she wanted her dead more than she wanted anything. She wondered if maybe Jaime wanted that as well. “Why are you here?”

 

He turned to look at her and he looked defeated. Sansa almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “I gave my word to your brother and the queen. I haven’t had much opportunity to keep my word in the past. Oathbreaker. Man Without Honor. If the world is going to end, I’d like to think that I could change that before I die.”

 

She turned back to the map on the table and looked at the pieces. It seemed a good plan, that the dead would have a lot they would have to overcome it they were going to take the keep. Moats of fire around Winterfell. She only hoped that the great keep was kept from burning once more. The thought of fire made her think of the Wildfire in Blackwater Bay and the tragic mistake she made by not leaving with the Hound that night. She looked at the map and couldn't see where Sandor was placed. “In this scenario of the battle, where do you have the Hound?”

 

“Outside the walls with us,” he answered and moved over to her to look at the map.

 

“That’s stupid,” she said as she looked at the map. “He’s afraid of fire. Paralyzed by it. Have him inside the walls with Arya and Northmen and Brienne outside on the field with you.”

 

“Brienne is to stay with you,” he answered, both of them knowing that Brienne kept her vows and would give her life to protect Sansa or Arya's lives.

  
“Leave Pod with me. You need Brienne,” she answered. At his look, she huffed out a breath. “She defeated the Hound. You need skilled swords like hers on the field. Literally, her sword. As you said, it's Valyrian steel.”

 

“Brienne won’t like that,” Jaime argued, his friendship with the lady warrior let him know that much.

 

Sansa looked over at him and then back at the table. “She is my protector. She can better protect me on the field than inside a room where her skills are wasted.” After a moment she spoke again. “I’ll convince her.”

 

They were silent for a moment, both staring down at the table and his heavy sigh caused her to glance at him.  “I’m...sorry, truly sorry, about your mother,” he said, not looking at her. “She released me to get you back.”

 

“You did a splendid job,” she said flatly.

 

He frowned, clearly frustrated that even a simple gesture such as his condolences for the death of her mother was brushed aside so easily. “As I said, my family ignored me unless I had something they wanted or needed. I’m glad Brienne found you,” he said after a moment. “She’s the most honorable person I know.”

 

She nodded. “I agree. You could learn a lot from her.”

 

“I have.”

 

“She believes in you, for some reason. A lot of people do,” she said as she turned to face him. “Don’t disappoint them,” she said as she turned to leave the room.

 

“What about you?” He asked softly. 

 

She turned to slowly face him. “I couldn’t have a lower opinion of you. Surprise me,” she said before she turned and left the room. Her heart was racing as she made her way back to her room and closed the door behind her. Her hands were shaking as well and she moved to the chair over by the hearth and sat down, wondering what was happening to her and why Jaime Lannister had to be the one to get an emotional reaction from her, whether it was anger or not.  


	14. Jaime III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bronn is putting strange notions in Jaime's head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love writing Bronn. Don't know if I've said that. He has no filter and really doesn't care if people like what he has to say.

  


**JAIME**

 

Bronn stood beside Jaime on the rampart of Winterfell as they both looked at the Dothraki tents. He was unsure if he could call Bronn his friend, but at this point, he was all he had.  “I’m going to suggest we put the Hound inside the courtyard.  He hates fire.”

 

“If you had your head shoved into a fire, you’d hate it, too.” After a moment he frowned. “It’s a good idea. I suppose I’m your protector on the field.”

 

“Brienne will be with us.”

 

He nodded. “I don’t exactly see her agreeing to that considering she’s sworn to protect the Stark girls.”

 

“Sansa will convince her.”

 

Bronn looked over at Jaime and then back out at the field. “ _ Sansa _ ? Had many conversations with her?”

 

“A few,” he answered before he stood up straight, uncomfortable with Bronn’s questioning.  

 

“Oh? When? I’m with you most of the day.”

 

“Why is that exactly?”

 

Bronn rolled his eyes. “We’ve been over this, the only person that gets to kill you is me because your job if we live is to make sure I get a nice fucking castle where I can grow old and have pretty ladies come in and suck my cock for the rest of my life.”

 

Jaime shook his head. “It’s amazing. We’re standing on the brink of war with death itself and all you can think of is where you’re going to put your cock at the end of it all.”

 

He shrugged. “At least I know what I’m fighting for. Why the fuck are you here?”

 

“I made a promise.”

 

“Yes, you did. Sort of. Cersei made a promise and backed out, which is exactly what everyone should have expected.”

 

He frowned. “I put too much faith in her for too long.”

 

“Took this long to realize that?”

 

He shook his head and sighed. “No, I worked that out myself when she threatened to have me killed.”

 

“Oh, it wasn’t a threat. She was going to have you killed. Maybe she loved you enough not to want to  _ watch _ you die, but she wants you dead. Just like your brother.”

 

“It’s worse than Tyrion. I allowed horrible things to happen to people because I was content to watch the world burn if it meant I was with her. She killed a thousand people when she blew up the Sept and she never even flinched when telling me why. The loss of life meant nothing to her,” he said, still amazed. People dying had always been an abstract thing.  But he’d killed a king to keep him from blowing up the city.  Why could he not do the same thing now? She was even more dangerous than ever, and he still couldn’t stop her.

 

“The loss of life has always meant nothing to her if you ask the right people,” Bronn responded. People do shit things for the people they love all the time. Not on such a grand scale like you, though.”

 

“How many people have died because I couldn’t stop her, by choice or force?”

 

“A lot,” Bronn replied. “But, you’re here now, so maybe that fucking means something.”

 

Jaime frowned and his shoulders sagged and looked across the yard where Sansa stood speaking with Lord Royce as it began to snow again. “I fucking hate the North,” he said after a moment. “The people are hard, their memories long and unforgiving, and the weather is shit.”

 

“The women are always warm,” he said as he looked over at Jaime with a smile. “So, there’s that.”

 

“Not all the women,” he answered, staring at Sansa who seemed oblivious to them. Jaime realized Bronn had seen him staring at Sansa and he turned his attention away as he started for the stairs that led down to the courtyard.

 

“ _ How much time _ have you been spending with the Lady of Winterfell?” 

 

“Enough to know that she’d put my head in a box and send it to Cersei,” he replied.

 

Bronn smirked. “You wanna fuck that Stark girl.”

 

Jaime turned on the stair to look at Bronn and took a deep breath. “Did you hear what I said?”

 

“I did. Doesn’t mean you don’t want to fuck her. Seems the Lannister men have something in common when it comes to her.”

 

Jaime continued down the stairs, deciding to ignore Bronn’s comment about Sansa. He wouldn’t entertain it. She hated him. He wasn’t overly fond of her and her cold words. “Tyrion is too distracted by his own ambition at the moment.”

 

Bronn smiled over at Jaime. “You didn’t deny it.”

 

“Shut up,” he said as he glanced up again and found her watching him, this time. She turned back to Lord Royce and continued her conversation. Bronn shoved him in the back and withdrew his sword.  

 

“Make me.”

 

Jaime frowned. “I’m not fighting you right now.”

  
“Why not?  Because she’s watching?  You don’t want to make a fool of yourself?” Jaime clenched his jaw and withdrew his sword and took his stance. When Bronn lunged, he used the opportunity to punch him. Bronn rubbed his jaw. “If you knock out one of my fucking teeth,  _ I’ll _ send your head back to Cersei.”

 

Their swords clashed and Jaime pushed off and evaded Bronn’s drive towards his abdomen and he dropped his stance. “I’m not wearing armor,” he reminded.

 

Bronn spit blood to the ground and smiled. “Then don’t let me kill you.”

 

He watched as Sansa turned from watching them and went back to the keep. He knew he should kill the sellsword on the ground for suggesting that he wanted anything to do with the cold Lady of Winterfell. He stayed his hand because a part of him knew he was right. She didn’t thank him for coming North and telling them about Cersei. She was the only one who didn’t seem to want his help or him there fighting with them. It was infuriating. 

 

Women usually threw themselves at him. He’d never been interested, solely fixed on his love for Cersei. And though she was carrying his child, he knew he’d never see her again, and whatever was between them was gone. She destroyed any chance of it when she nodded to the Mountain. Had he hesitated he wondered if she would have actually had him killed. Sansa wasn’t Cersei, though. He glanced at Bronn who was smiling at him expectantly. “You fancy Lords and your complicated women,” he said with a shake of his head. “Careful, that one managed to outmaneuver everyone in King’s Landing and in Winterfell. You piss her off, and she will send your head back to Cersei in a box.”

 

“I have no interest in Sansa Stark.”

 

“Right,” Bronn said with a roll of his eyes. “And  _ I’m _ the Mother of Dragons. It’s been my experience that you don’t have to like someone to fuck them. Sometimes, that makes the sex better. Just hard and angry. I do like a good, angry fuck.”

 

Jaime sheathed his sword and frowned. “It really is all cocks with you, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, the most important being mine. So, don’t do anything to the Stark girl that she doesn’t want,” he said with a smirk. "Cause I don't fancy her removing both of ours and sending them to your sister. I don't deserve that sort of punishment."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next couple of chapters order is as follows. Jon, Daenerys, Arya, and Gendry. These went in this order to set up Jon and Daenerys's chapters.


	15. Jon III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon learns a bit about his sire and has a frank and open discussion with Sam about his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today because it's Monday, and people need good things!

**JON**

 

He looked out over the field and felt a sense of both relief and dread. It was amazing to behold; Dothraki, Unsullied, and Northmen working together to dig trenches. Davos was at his side and Winterfell sat against the wintry backdrop of the North.

 

“How did we get here, Davos?” Jon asked, and heaved a sigh.

 

“Well, your grace, I think it all started when you died,” he said softly.

 

He looked over at the older man and frowned. “Not my favorite memory.”

 

“I can see why it isn’t. But you took back the North and then went south to talk to the dragon queen about using her armies and her dragonglass.”

 

He shook his head. “I hated her when I first met her.” Davos made a scoffing sound and Jon frowned. “What?”

 

“Hated her?” He shook his head. “You may have been frustrated with her, I know I was, but you didn’t hate her.” He clapped Jon on the back and smiled. “No, boy, you’ve been gone since the second she apologized for what happened to your grandfather and uncle.” He looked around at the field while Davos continued. “It seems fate, now, that you went and got to know her before you knew of your parentage. I doubt she would have been hospitable to someone with a better claim to the throne than her.”

 

“Thrones.” He said with a roll of his eyes. “That seems to be all anyone can think about. Cersei, Tyrion, Jaime, Sansa...”

 

“Daenerys is not in the same field as them. She wants the crown and the throne, yes, but she’s postponed that because she sees the real threat. The dead may make fools of us all,” he answered coldly.

 

“I’ll never forget the sound of that dragon dying,” he said softly. “And his brothers screaming. I felt that same pain inside when Robb died and when I saw Rickon die.” He shook his head and frowned. “I wanted to beat Ramsay to death.”

 

“You almost did. Why did you stop?”

 

He sighed. “Sansa. His fate was hers to decide.”

 

“Decide she did. Death from dogs is a brutal death for someone so despicable, but maybe not brutal enough.”

 

“Child’s play compared to what she probably endured at his hands.” They steered their horses back to the castle and he looked at Davos. “Daenerys wants us to rule the kingdom as equals.”

 

“How would that work?” he asked.

 

He shook his head. “Something about giving the people more of a voice. She wants to help people, Davos.”

 

“So do you. You’re well suited.”

 

“Aye, but I don’t want to be king.”

 

“That’s why you’re the right king,” Davos said and sighed. “I followed Stannis for a long time, and he never questioned whether he had a right to the throne and was willing to do anything and hurt anyone to get it. All you want is to protect your people. You don’t feel it’s divine providence to rule...”

 

“Daenerys does. She believes it’s my right as much as hers.”

 

“Maybe that’s all you need, though. One person, an important one, to believe that it’s yours. And if she’s willing to share power then perhaps she’s the queen you need at your side.”

 

“We haven’t discussed it fully, but I’m sure we’ll get married.”

 

Davos was silent for a moment. “Do you want to marry her?”

 

“Not for any noble reasons,” Jon asserted. “Selfish ones.”

 

They entered the gates of Winterfell and climbed from their horses. They handed off their reigns to a waiting stable boy and Davos waited until they were gone. “You’ve done a lot of selfless things since I’ve met you. Some damn foolish ones, as well. I think you deserve one selfish act.” He frowned. “I saw you come back from the dead and in the hours after. You wanted relief from the hard life you’d been living. You wanted to be free of the shit this world was going to rain down. But, you’re here. You took back Winterfell. The hard men of the North chose you as their king. You went and met with Daenerys and Cersei Lannister when everything in you told you that it was a bad idea, as was going beyond the wall in the first place. I don’t think anyone would fault you for taking the one bit of happiness you’ve managed to find in this world.”

 

Jon looked around the keep and noticed Gendry at the top of one of the towers installing the second Scorpion. “He’s a damn fine smith. Pretty damn good with that war hammer of his.”

 

“He’s a good lad. Stannis was going to kill him simply because he had the misfortune of being Robert’s bastard. Nearly lost my life by releasing him.”

 

Jon looked over at Davos and smiled. “You didn’t. You’re here. So is he.”

 

“He seems to have an affinity for your sister,” Davos said as they walked back to the hall. “At least, some of the other men have been saying that.”

 

Jon stopped walking and frowned. “What are they saying?”

 

“You’re better off not knowing what pigs think of a lady, your grace.”

 

“I’ll not have them besmirch her. Are they saying he’s taken advances towards her?”

 

Davos shook his head. “Quite the opposite, your grace. She’s the one that’s been advancing on him.”

 

Jon rubbed the bridge of his nose and felt like vomiting. Nothing Davos had just told him had come as a surprise, but it was still his little sister. “I think she loves him.”

 

“Seems to be in the air,” Davos said with a smile. “I have confidence that if young Gendry put a hand on her in any way that she didn’t like, he wouldn’t be alive.”

 

“That’s what worries me, Davos,” he said as they continued into the hall. He found Jaime standing over the map of the battle. He looked at Davos and said softly, “Give me a moment with Ser Jaime.”

 

“Of course,” he said as he left the hall.  Moved over to the table and looked at the map. “The trenches are coming along quickly since the Dothraki and the Unsullied have begun helping. The Pitch from White Harbor has also arrived.

 

Jaime looked up at Jon. “Not your first battle?”

 

Jon scoffed. “I faced Ramsay Bolton on the field a little over a year ago outside these gates.”

 

“I heard he was fed to dogs.”

 

“That is what Sansa decided his fate should be,” Jon answered. “He deserved worse.”

 

“Fed to dogs is pretty horrible death.”

 

He shrugged. “He killed my brother in front of me. Taunted me about raping my sister, allowing his men to rape my sister. He took my family home. He tortured Sansa. She was more merciful than some people would be.”

 

“I don’t judge your sister for how she decided the monster torturing her should die,” he said softly. “She’ll be the Lady of Winterfell when you march south. And you’re the true heir to the throne. How did you discover this?”

 

“A long, complicated story,” he answered.

 

Jaime was silent for a moment and then sighed. “I knew Rhaegar. I was the youngest King’s Guard member ever. And Rhaegar was the prince. I liked him.”

 

“Yet you killed his father,” Jon said softly. “I’ve always wondered why.”

 

“Do you know of Wildfire?” Jon nodded. “The Mad King had stores of it beneath the city. When he locked the gates and found out that Robert’s men were outside, he started screaming ‘Burn them all’. He meant to light the city on fire, believing he was a dragon and couldn’t be burned. He was going to kill a million people in his madness and I couldn’t let him do it. I knew if he died all of it stopped. All the fighting, all the death...I didn’t see another choice.”

 

“Is that how Cersei blew up the Sept? Wildfire beneath it?” Jon questioned. At Jaime’s frown, Jon shook his head. “I suppose asking you to fight against her would be too much?”

 

Jaime looked at the map and frowned. “One war at a time,” he said softly.

 

Jon didn’t know what he would do if faced with killing one of his sisters or even Daenerys. If it saved thousands of people’s lives, he wasn’t sure he would be able to make the choice put before Jaime. Instead, he decided to talk about a different subject, one in which he had no knowledge about. “You knew Rhaegar? What was he like?”

 

Jaime looked over at Jon and smirked. “He was an amazing fighter but hated every second of it. He just wanted to sing and fuck.”

  
“Sing?” Jon questioned.

 

Jaime laughed. “He had silver harp he would carry out into the city and sing to people. Ser Barristan would come back and brag about how much his grace had made that evening and how much the people seemed to love him.” He shook his head. “And they did. The people loved him. He would have been a good king. He was obsessed with the Prince who was Promised, convinced that his son would be the one.”

 

“I don’t believe in prophecies,” Jon said plainly. “How many people have died because of them?”

 

“A lot. But your father didn’t want to kill people. He wanted to protect people. I don’t know how he managed to run away with Lyanna Stark and no one but Ser Arthur Dayne knew...but it severed this world. Aeyrs was already mad, before that, but Rhaegar leaving with Lyanna and then your grandfather and uncle coming to...I don’t believe Rhaegar ever thought all that transpired would.”

 

Jon thought on what Jaime had said and felt no affection towards Rhaegar. Instead, his father hadn’t changed simply because the truth had finally been revealed. “Ned Stark was my father. The man who raised me to understand what honor and loyalty are. I don’t know Rhaegar. I was simply curious as to what he was like.”

 

Jaime sighed. “I may be one of the last living people who knew him. Not even Queen Daenerys met him. She has his fight, though. When he found a cause nothing could shake it.”

 

“Obviously,” Jon answered with a sad smile. “She’s determined. And she has dragons.”

 

“I faced off against her in the field as she rode that dragon and broke our line, the Dothraki behind her. I’ve been in battles, I don’t know that I’ve ever been as afraid.”

 

“You charged at her with a spear,” Jon asserted.

 

“And I nearly paid with my life. I wanted it to end,” he said as he looked down at the table. “A high born fool trying to end the entire war with a spear and hope,” he shook his head. 

 

“Luckily, you both failed to kill one another.”

 

“I can’t imagine what would have happened if she wasn’t here to control the dragons.”

 

Jon frowned. “Let’s hope we don’t find out.”

 

Jaime sighed. “You’re going to marry her, then?”

 

He faced Jaime and nodded. “Yes. If she’ll have me.”

 

Jaime rolled his eyes and Jon looked indignant. “Apologies. Any fool could see that she’d have you. I realized it when we were discussing my life in the solar. You’re both too obvious.”

 

Jon shrugged. “I don’t feel much need to hide it,” he said softly. 

 

“Then don’t.” He looked at the floor. “People in your position shouldn’t worry about what other people think of certain aspects of their lives. If you’re going to rule, then you  _ can’t _ worry about it. Having the support of the people is important, but so is knowing what you need to do and carrying that out.”

 

Someone else entered the room and they both turned to see Sam. Jon gave his friend a smile and he turned back to Jaime. “We’ll speak later,” he said and Jaime gave him a nod before leaving the room.

 

“You’re going to marry her?” Sam asked. “Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

Jon gripped the hilt of Longclaw with both hands, having the sword at his side seemed to give him strength at times. “Should we defeat the dead, I think that is the plan.”

 

“She killed my father and brother,” he said sadly. “My father is not much of a loss, to me. I mean, I wanted his approval, but he was a hard man.” He frowned. “My brother was not. And she burned both of them alive.”

 

Jon felt a knot between his shoulders and wondered how he was going to comfort his friend. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

 

“Do you agree with her decision?”

 

He shook his head. “I can’t say whether I do or don’t. I wasn’t there.”

 

“That’s an easy way to escape hurting either of us.”

 

“I don’t want you, my friend, to hurt. I don’t want her, my...”

 

“Lover?”

 

Jon pursed his lips together and shrugged. “Your father and brother met her in a battle. They had been sworn to House Tyrell and betrayed them. The punishment for being a traitor is death, I know, I paid that price,” Jon said softly. “And she did give them a choice.”

 

“What choice? Death or kneel?”

 

“Sam...”

  
“Would you have done the same thing?”

 

“You know I wouldn’t.”

 

“Then how can you defend her?”

 

Jon frowned. “I can still care about her, still fight beside her, because I know she’s willing to fight for me. I don’t have enough men in the North to take on the fight that’s coming. You know that. With her armies, her dragons, we have a chance to kill all the dead. She came and saved my life when she didn’t have to, when she was counseled against it. It would be easy to paint her as a monster. But I’ve seen her save people from monsters.” He sighed. “And we need someone else besides us who believes in this cause.”

 

Sam looked at the floor. “I understand, Jon. I do. It’s simply hard to wrap my head around how my brother died. He didn’t deserve that.”

 

Jon shook his head. “I’ve lost brothers, Sam. My own brothers and brothers of the Night’s Watch. None of it ever seems fair.”

 

“I’m going to be on the field fighting...”

  
“Sam, you’re not...”

 

“I’ll be there. I can’t fight well, but I can use a torch to light those that fall. We can’t allow him to raise more.”

 

Jon furrowed his brow and turned back to the map. “I hadn’t considered that. Anyone that falls...he could use them against us. Raise them.” He put both hands on the edge of the table and closed his eyes. “We’ll need to tell everyone to burn the dead, immediately. Men with torches on the field...” Jon looked over at Sam and smiled. “Look at that, you contributed in a great way to the Battle. You never thought that would happen.”

 

Sam smiled and shook his head. “No. I didn’t.”

 

He shook his head. “But I don’t want you on the field. I want you to protect Bran. He hardly leaves the Godswood, and I’m afraid he won’t stay inside the keep with Sansa. I would ask my Brother of the Night’s Watch protect my brother of blood.”

 

The other man smiled after a moment. “I’ll do whatever I can to protect him,” he said and Jon stepped forward and hugged Sam.

 

“I am sorry about your brother.”

 

“Thank you, Jon.” He stepped back and looked at him. “Or is Aegon? Which do you want?”

 

He smiled. “Jon. I prefer Jon.”


	16. Daenerys III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New strategy, gossip girls, and dragons...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I can't think of a better summary. I also think it's worth noting that I do have a playlist on my iTunes for the specific couples. Towards the end, I'll share them :) Maybe it would get you in my headspace a little better.

**DAENERYS**

 

Jon hadn’t returned to the chamber that morning, and instead, she found him in the hall looking over the map as others broke their fast.  He was explaining the plan to Tormund when Jaime entered the hall.  Daenerys moved to the head table and sat beside Sansa. The other girl only glanced at Jaime as she turned back to her food.  She understood Sansa’s issues with Jaime. It was the same one she had that nearly threatened to take her over. Loyalty to family.

 

She was also loyal to her hand. She never met her father. She knew what he was, though. If the stories of the Mad King were, in fact, true, then Jaime Lannister saved hundreds of thousands of people. The Kingslayer, they called him. “Your grace, I had something come to my attention of our plan last night. Sandor needs to be inside the keep, or at least inside the walls.”

 

Jon straightened and Daenerys tilted her head, wondering where this revelation had come from and why. “Why is that?” Daenerys asked.

 

“The Hound fears fire,” he said as he glanced up at Daenerys, and then turned his eyes momentarily to Sansa and back to the table.  She looked over at Sansa and wondered what the look that passed between them was. “He freezes up around it. It is the reason he abandoned the fight at King’s Landing. We keep him as far from the fire as we can and he’s a better warrior for it.”

 

“That leaves you with one less warrior fighting beside you.  One less skilled warrior, that is,” Tyrion supplied.

 

He shook his head. “If you would, I’d have Brienne beside me. Podrick can protect Lady Sansa...”

 

“I will not,” Brienne said as stood from her spot beside Sansa. “My duty is to Sansa and Arya.”

 

“Arya will be in the courtyard. If you want to protect her, you’ll need to be outside the walls keeping anything from getting inside. At that point, Arya, Gendry, The Hound and a contingent of soldiers will be defending the Keep.  But as you said,” he turned to Tyrion then Jon.  “We need skilled fighters outside the walls.”

 

Sansa stood slowly, her hands folded in front of her as she seemed to weigh his words. When she spoke, her words took Daenerys by surprise. “I agree. Brienne should be defending the keep from the outside. You have a Valyrian steel sword,” she explained as she looked to a protesting Brienne. “It should be on the field, not guarding me in a room. I’ll be safe with Podrick.”

 

The room was silent as several people took in what was happening. Sansa Stark had just agreed with something Jaime Lannister had said. Daenerys’ eyes caught Jon’s and he seemed as confused as she but he could see the benefit of what was being proposed. Daenerys stood and moved to look at the table, and then turned to Brienne. “It’s your duty to protect the Stark ladies, Lady Brienne. I will defer to _you_ on how that should be handled,” she said as she looked at the lady knight.  

 

Brienne looked at Sansa, a frown on her face. “My Lady, are you sure?”

 

Sansa nodded. “Yes. You’re too good of a fighter to contain you in a room to protect me from something that _might_ try to attack us. With your skills as a sword fighter, I would feel safer with you outside the walls. You’ve been training Podrick, I trust that you’ve taught him well.”

 

She could feel Jon watching her and she glanced at him, both of them obviously thinking the same thing: this was arranged. Lady Brienne looked torn, but she nodded at Sansa and then looked to Daenerys and Jon. “I’ll go where my lady commands.”

 

Daenerys noticed Jaime glance at Sansa before he turned back to the map. Sansa went back to eating and reading over a raven that had been sent from the Citadel. She seemed wholly unaffected by the conversation that had just been had until she’d glanced at Jaime, a slight smile on her face before she schooled her features once more to indifference.

 

She looked at Tyrion who was pouring over one of the books Samwell Tarly had brought with him from the Citadel. Jon had tried to smooth things over with his brother of the Night’s Watch, to little avail. The death of his brother seemed to be the real sticking point. She had apologized for his loss, but not for what she did. And she wouldn’t. They were at war. The fact that the young man had been so stubborn was a fault of his own. But faced with the pain of Sam’s face and the obvious disappointment when he realized that Jon wasn’t going to denounce her, she did feel bad for it. The problem was, faced with the same situation, she would make the same choice.

 

“Anything helpful?” She questioned and Tyrion looked up at her and shook his head.

 

“Mentions of Azor Ahai and how he acquired his flaming sword leave a lot to be desired.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard the story. He plunged his sword into the chest of his wife.”

 

“Let’s not have that happen,” he said lowly. “Not that I think he would, but should it look as if it’s coming to that...fly off on your dragons for the other side of the world.”

  
“I won’t run away, Tyrion. You at least know that much about me, don’t you?”

 

He frowned and nodded. “I do, your grace. It’s one of your best assets, and possibly your greatest flaw.”

 

“I intend to survive this war,” she said, finally. “Don’t give up hope.”

 

He shook his head. “Can’t really give up something I didn’t have much of, to begin with.”

 

She smiled and looked up as Arya entered the hall, her eyes scanning the tables obviously looking for someone. Seeing the disappointment on her face at not seeing Gendry's blue eyes caused Daenerys to look for the familiar dark eyes of her own lover. Jon sat beside her and she turned to look at him. “You didn’t come back,” she said softly.

 

He heaved a sigh and looked at her. “I walked the field. The sun was rising before I knew it.”

 

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone,” she reminded him. She wanted him to let her in, to let her help him. If they were going to be equals on the Iron Throne, they needed to be equals everywhere.

 

He tilted his head at her and then gave a weak smile. “Apologies. I’ve been carrying it alone for so long, I don’t know any other way.”

 

She smiled, then.  “I’ll teach you.”

 

He looked at his goblet and said into his cup, so only she could hear. “I do love to learn from you.”

 

She grinned and shook her head. “Why Jon Snow, whatever do you mean?”

 

Tyrion looked up from his reading at them. “If you don’t mind, some of us are still trying to eat,” he said making a point of taking a bite of bacon.

 

Daenerys smiled at her hand and then her thoughts turned to war. Too soon, the ability to smile could be taken from them. They could all be killed or she could lose the man she loved. The people she had come to love. Jorah, Grey Worm, even Tyrion if things got terribly bad. Jon’s sisters and brother could fall. Her dragons. Losing all three was nearly enough to cause her tears, but she didn’t let the thought settle for long. She wouldn’t stop fighting. She wouldn’t give up hope.

 

She looked over at Sansa who appeared to be engrossed in correspondence from elsewhere in the large country. “Any good news, my lady?” Daenerys asked.

 

Sansa frowned. “Cersei has asked us to send her Jaime’s head and have you and the ‘bastard imposter in the North’ surrender to her.”

 

Daenerys scoffed. “She’s truly mad.”

 

“It’s posturing. Either way, she has to know she loses this war,” Tyrion remarked

 

“The Gold Company could change things. That’s a lot of men. And elephants,” Daenerys said, having heard tales of the Gold Company from Jorah.

 

“You have dragons, the Unsullied, and Dothraki. I’ll take my chances with the queen my brother chose,” Sansa said giving her a small smile. She didn’t know why, but Sansa’s faith in her warmed her.

 

“Lady Sansa, I’m going to check on my dragons. Would you and Lady Brienne kindly escort me?” Jon looked over at her, a questioning look on his brow. She put a reassuring hand on his arm and a small smile, then turned to see Sansa and Brienne rise from their chairs. Daenerys walked beside Sansa, several of the men looking at them critically. “I fear I’ll never have the full support of the North.”

 

“I wouldn’t say that, your grace. Fight for them, win for them, and they’ll follow you to the end of the world.”

 

“I intend to do both, my lady,” she said and they both looked up at Rhaegal as he flew overhead. “He’s suffered a great loss. He mourns,” she told Sansa.

 

“Anyone who has lost a brother could empathize.”

 

Daenerys frowned. “I suppose that depends on the brother,” she said softly. “My brother sold me for an army,” she glanced over at Sansa. “I have faith that your brothers would never dream of doing such a thing.”

 

“No. Jon and Bran would never. Robb and Rickon wouldn’t have either.”

 

“What was Robb like? Jon speaks of him so little,” she said softly.

 

“Honorable. He tried to pretend that he didn’t care for Jon in front of our mother. But he did. Theon, Jon, and Robb were quite the trio. Jon, the silent one, always brooding. Theon always seemed to be...confused about his role. My father took him in when he was a child. Raised him alongside my brothers. My mother had less of an issue with him than she did Jon. And Robb was trained to be able to take over the keep and rule the North like my father. As much as he was destined to the role, I think Jon is actually better suited.”

 

Daenerys looked over at her. “Why is that?”

 

“He doesn’t want it. Jon hates being King. He’s honored, don’t misinterpret what I’m saying, but he doesn’t feel worthy of it. All he knows is that he’d give anything to protect his people.”

 

“Loyal to a fault,” Daenerys agreed. “I thought, maybe, you would have a problem with Jon as King. At least from my discussions with Jon about him going south. Maybe you wanted the role as Queen of the North.”

 

Sansa winced and Daenerys thought that maybe she had been right. “I don’t know that I wanted it as much as I would have liked to have been offered. I’m Ned Stark's daughter. It sounds absurd to think it now, given all that’s happened, but I thought between the two of us, between Jon and I, that I would be more suited. He hates the politics, the game, as Tyrion calls it. He’s a warrior and sometimes warriors make bad politicians.”

 

Daenerys stepped away from Sansa and Brienne and Rhaegal laid his head on the ground in front of her. She took a deep breath and thought she could see the sadness in the dragon’s eyes. It did comfort her that her children had so openly accepted Jon. It made things easier if he was going to ride Rhaegal. She’d simply have to show him how to do it properly. “And sometimes politicians get too caught up in the game to see that there are more important things,” she said as she turned back to Sansa, but her hand never left the dragon who seemed to almost purr under her caress.

 

“My lady, I asked you out here because I know how you feel about Jaime Lannister,” Daenerys said and looked down at the green dragon. “He killed my father and I was sent into exile. My father was mad. The stories...what he did to your family...I’m sorry, truly. But he was still my father and I never got to know him. All because Jaime Lannister stabbed him in the back,” she heaved a sigh. “I want his head as much as you do.” She watched as Brienne looked away from the two women, knowing that it probably made her uncomfortable. “But I won’t be the one to take it.”

 

“Why? How much of your life changed because of what he did?” Sansa argued.

 

“All of it. But any one change could have put me on a different path. Given all I know, all I’ve seen, I can’t want to change any one thing because everything...I might not be standing on this field, with my armies surrounding your gates, my dragons, or your brother. Any one thing could have had me killed or worse.” She looked at Sansa and frowned. “You and I both know there are worse things than death.”

 

“I hate him,” Sansa said finally. “Nothing keeps me from feeling that way.”

 

“No one is asking you to feel differently. Certainly not me. But I ask the politician in you to see what he has to offer. And consider this,” she said as she turned back to the dragon. “He did ride North to help, despite it being nowhere near the force we needed. He could have left the continent.  He could have sided with his sister,” she said with a frown. “Instead, he risked his life to come tell us that Cersei was the snake we all knew her to be, only worse.” Brienne shifted from foot to foot and Daenerys could see she wanted to speak and smiled at her. “Please speak freely, Lady Brienne.”

 

“Your grace, I spent a long time traveling with Ser Jaime. He kept a group of men from gang raping me. He lost his hand that night. He hated having to kill your father, considered your brother a friend. He killed the king and lived with the name Kingslayer. He hated it. It makes him feel shame. But he did it because he actually cares what happens to people. He acts as if it doesn’t bother him, that he relishes in the title, but I assure you, he hates it.” She gripped the hilt of her sword and hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “The Bolton men threw me into a pit with a bear, and Jaime came back and saved my life. He’s made some terrible choices. What he did to your brother,” she said as she looked at Sansa and frowned, “I know that the impulse is to hate him. But Jaime will prove honorable if you allow him.”

 

Sansa heaved a sigh. “Brienne is in love with him,” she said softly.

 

“Whether it’s love or not, is irrelevant. Jaime proved to me, long ago, the type of man he is,” Brienne defended. “He is the one that sent me to find Arya and Sansa. He gave me the armor I wear and the sword I carry. All to fulfill his promise to Caitlyn Stark to return her daughters to the North.”

 

Daenerys stepped away from Rhaegal and they all three watched him run across the field and soar into the air. “He’ll have the chance to prove himself. As I said, I won’t take his head. And I have faith that your brother’s word holds true, and if he betrays us, no one will hear him scream,” she said as she walked back to the two women. “Now, Lady Sansa, what can you tell me about your sister and her blacksmith?”

 

Sansa smirked. “Not much,” Daenerys looped her arm through Sansa’s and they walked back to the keep as one of the Dothraki riders approached them.

 

_“Khaleesi, the outer ring is nearly complete.”_

 

Daenerys nodded at him. “ _Start on the next one. Immediately_ ," she ordered and he rode away and began shouting orders at the others.

 

“Did you learn Dothraki from your husband?”

 

She nodded. “My husband and my maids. It was either learn Dothraki or have him grunt at me forever. Messandei has helped to refine it.”

 

“They’re formidable.”

 

“They are,” she said as she turned to look at the horde of men riding out to the ones digging the trenches. “Wait until you see them fight,” she said, pride coloring her tone. “Jaime Lannister was unfortunate enough to be on the wrong side of a battle against them.”

 

“He’s alive, so it didn’t go too badly for him.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “He thought to charge me with a spear while Drogon still lived. If it hadn’t been for Bronn, he would have been roasted alive.”

 

“Shame,” Sansa said softly.

 

Daenerys sighed. “I did worry once I heard Samwell Tarly was here. I was afraid he would hate me.”

 

“He may,” Sansa said softly.

 

“Unfortunate aspect of war. There are always losses,” she said sadly. “But they had a choice.”

 

“I don’t second guess your choices, your grace,” Sansa offered sympathetically. “I suppose no one knows what choices they would make in the same situation.”

 

“And, if I found myself in the same place, the same time, in the same situation, I would make the same choice,” Daenerys said softly. “I can’t look back and question the things I did. It would be my downfall.” Sansa and Daenerys stopped walking as they both watched Arya move into the smithy, and they both shared a look with one another. “I think your sister is more invested in the weapons being made than fighting, at the moment.”

 

“It’s surprising,” Sansa said. “I thought Arya was a cold blooded killer. And it turns out, she is, but there’s more.”

 

“He’s not unattractive.”

 

Sansa smiled. “No, he’s not.”

 

“He’s Robert Baratheon’s bastard. Jon or I could make him a Lord,” she said. “Do you think your sister would marry him?”

 

“Arya’s been against marriage for as long as I can remember. I think she was always afraid that she would marry someone who would demand she be something she’s not.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Me,” Sansa said softly. “Arya wants no part of being a lady. At least, not the role. I think she would like the part that admires a beautiful man,” she said with a smile.

 

“Well, let’s not disturb her,” Daenerys said as they continued walking towards the keep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd also like to say thank you to everyone who has left a comment! Those are my lifeblood at the moment. I've been writing fan fiction in one form or another since I was 14, so twenty years, now. I've been in the Dawson's Creek fandom, the Harry Potter (specifically Draco/Hermione) fandom, and since I've started posting this, the Game of Thrones fandom. I've never had a story that I had laid out as much as this one and the outpouring of love and support for this one, even though it might have a pairing you don't necessarily like, has been overwhelming. Every Kudos, every comment, every hit as a read on this story has filled me with happiness I can't put into words. So, thank you, dear readers.


	17. Sansa IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa/Jaime Sass off coming at ya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is coming before Arya and Gendry, but there is a reason, and I promise the next chapter is Arya.

  


**SANSA**

 

Sansa sat in front of the fire staring into the flames, contemplating what would actually happen once this war had been decided. If they won, then Jon and Daenerys would march south and depose Cersei. She only hoped that when Cersei finally died that it was long, drawn out, and painful. The woman had been the cause of so much pain in her life. Her selfishness and malice for the world would cause her to watch it all burn. She wondered how much convincing Arya would need to ride to King's Landing and strike Cersei's name from her list. The sounds of swords clanging outside drew her attention away from her murderous thoughts and she moved to the window to stare down at the courtyard as Jaime sparred with Bronn of the Blackwater, Tyrion nearby speaking to Jon as they both watched the sword play.  She watched as Bronn caught Jaime with a parry and then slugged him in the face.  Sansa winced as she knew all too well how it felt to be hit in the face.

 

This only seemed to make Jaime angry as he began to advance on Bronn and then used his gold hand to backhand Bronn across the face, sending the other man to his knees on the ground.  Jon and Tyrion both laughed and they were soon joined by the dragon queen who immediately pulled Jon’s attention.

 

She was jealous of Jon if she was honest with herself. After everything that had happened, going to the wall, losing a woman he loved, dying because his men deemed him a traitor, he’d seen the worst of life. And now he’d found love. Actual love. He had never believed in it before he went to the wall. He never thought that he would have it, while Sansa had spent nearly every night wishing for a prince to love her and give her beautiful babies. She moved away from the window and out of the solar, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head and moved to the breezeway that overlooked the courtyard.  

 

Daenerys stood beside Jon, but they didn’t touch, always careful to maintain propriety, though everyone knew they were together. How foolish to waste time allowing people to keep you from the one you loved. Arya joined her soon and looked over at her sister. “Be careful, sister, or people will think you’re lusting after Jon.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I’m not the one people are speaking about lusting for anyone,” she said carefully and turned to see Arya’s eyes light on Gendry where he stood on top of the far tower helping to install the second Scorpion. He seemed to realize he was being watched and turned his eyes to them and she nearly couldn’t hide the smile on her face as Arya actually blushed.

 

“People are stupid,” Arya said after a moment.

 

Sansa didn’t say anything but turned her attention back to the fight in front of them. Bronn tried to hit Jaime again, but he ducked and elbowed the other knight in the stomach. “Why Bronn, it looks to me like you might have lost a step,” Tyrion teased from beside Jon.

 

Bronn turned to Tyrion out of breath. “Would you like to find out?”

 

“I’m not a fighter. Not unless I have to be,” Tyrion said with a slight smile.

 

“I prefer my Hand not run off to fight a sellsword simply to prove a point,” Daenerys interjected.

 

“I could pick a champion.”

 

Daenerys shook her head. “No need. Ser Bronn, I believe, is a capable fighter.”

 

Sansa shook her head and turned to Arya. “They’re wasting time with all the talking.”

 

“Jon’s been planning. He walked the field last night. Davos found him this morning out along the edge. Seems he's having trouble sleeping.”

 

“How much sleep is he actually getting if he’s in the queen’s bed?” she said under her breath.

 

Arya then turned to face her, a strange look on her face.“That sounded incredibly bitter. _Are_ you lusting after Jon?”

 

“I’m not lusting for Jon,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m worried. The dead are coming,” she said softly. “It feels like everyone has forgotten that.”

 

“You think they don’t know? You think our brother who has seen the Night King has forgotten? You think Daenerys doesn’t remember that she lost a dragon? Do you believe that Jaime Lannister doesn’t realize what’s coming for us considering he abandoned his sister to come to our aid, though his aid isn’t what we needed it to be?” Arya frowned and looked back out at the yard as Sansa continued to gaze at her.  “We all know what we’re fighting, Sansa. We also have to know what we’re fighting for. Allow them their moments of levity.”

 

Sansa turned back to the yard and frowned. “What are you fighting for?” she whispered.

 

“What I’ve always fought for,” she turned to look at Sansa and sighed. “My family.”

 

“And Gendry?”

 

Arya turned her eyes to where Gendry stood at the top of the tower and Sansa watched as he helped one of the woodworkers with testing the rotation of the Scorpion they had finished. “He is my family.”

 

Sansa wanted to be happy for her, but instead, she felt sorry for herself. Jon, Daenerys, and Tyrion left Bronn and Jaime as they went into the keep.  Sansa left her sister on the wall and went down to the hall. The attendants were setting out plates and goblets for dinner and the smell of roasted meat filled the hall. The door behind her opened and Jaime entered only without Bronn and muttering to himself. He stopped at seeing that he wasn’t alone and she suddenly had the urge to be anywhere but there. He had a small cut on his jaw that was bleeding, obviously where Bronn had punched him.

 

“Lady Sansa,” he said with a bow of his head.

 

“Ser Jaime.”

 

He tilted his head a bit and a strange smile graced his face. “I’m not sure I’m considered a Ser any longer.”

 

“I thought knights were knights until their deaths.”

 

“Considering the queen in the south has a bounty on my head, I’m not sure how much longer that will be.”

 

“But lucky for you, you rode north to aid my brother and Daenerys. One queen for another.”

 

He clenched his jaw and she felt no need to be kind to him. There had been much agony come to the Starks because of Jaime and specifically his relationship with his sister. Bran came to mind, though the younger boy didn’t hold any of it against him. He could have had Jaime killed, should have. She still advocated for that to Bran, but he ignored her, claiming that Jaime was an important piece to have here. Sansa failed to see how that was true. He'd claimed that the moats of fire weren't his idea, Sandor inside the Keep was hers. She wondered aside from his presence what he actually contributed to this fight.

 

“One queen is not the same as the other,” he stated firmly. “I think we both know that.”

 

“More than most,” she answered. “I was sorry to hear about Tommen and Myrcella. They were always kind to me, which was rare in the capital, and for members of your family.”

 

“My brother was kind to you, was he not?”

 

“Yes, Tyrion proved that I shouldn’t judge all lions by the worst of them. After all, he never shoved a child from a window.”

 

She watched his hand tensed around the pommel of his sword and then sighed. “No, he didn’t.” He frowned and looked away from her. She thought of leaving while she could but his voice stopped her. “If you find my being here in such distaste, why haven’t you killed me in my sleep?”

 

She folded her hands in front of her and took a careful step forward. “I’m constantly reminded that we need you here. Your skills with the sword are coming along, though, not what you once were. But as a commander on the battlefield, you’re supposedly irreplaceable.”

 

“You disagree?” he questioned.

 

“Everyone can be replaced,” she said softly.  

 

“And how many battles have you fought, Lady Sansa?”

 

She took a step forward, her eyes narrowing at his tone. Who was this man to judge what she'd endured and what she'd fought? “I’ve fought monsters you couldn’t imagine, Ser Jaime, one of which was your own son,” she whispered menacingly.

 

Jaime looked away from her when faced with the truth about Joffrey. “As you said, you don’t judge the lions by the worst of them,” he said finally and his eyes met hers. “I’m sorry for all that happened to you under the...care of my family.”

 

Sansa tilted her head at him, and while some would relish his apology, it only made her want to fight him more. “You had the chance to step in and stop it," she paused, allowing him to know that she did blame him for his inaction as much as he blamed the others for their actions. "You didn’t. Your sister tormented me. Your son threatened and abused me, once in open court for the world to see. Your father married me to your brother against my will. It was lucky for me that Tyrion was one of the few people in your family that treated me with kindness. The only one who ever promised he wouldn't hurt me. I would forgive Tyrion if he apologized, though he need not. He had no influence with any of them. But you did." She said heatedly. "And you did nothing.”

 

“What sort of power do you think I had?” he questioned, his tone angry. “I came back to the capital and my family ignored me unless it suited them to have me around.” He held up his hand. “Disgraced and disfigured.”

 

“So, I should feel sorry for you?” she asked, disdain dripping from her tone.

 

He paused and must have realized how he’d sounded to a girl who had been subjected to emotional and physical torture at the hands of his family. “No,” he whispered. His eyes met hers and there was something in them that made her uncomfortable. Remorse, maybe. But then determination rose to the surface as he murmured, “But don’t pretend like I had the ability to help you. Don’t make me your enemy when you don’t have to.”

 

There was something about the way he said the last bit that caused an ache in her stomach she couldn't put to words. He was a good deal older than her, used to manipulating people to get what he wanted. She didn't trust that he wasn't trying to do that now. “All Lannisters are enemies of the Starks,” she said softly. “You made it that way when you shoved my brother from a window.” She reached into her sleeve and handed him her handkerchief. “You’re bleeding,” she said coldly and then left the room to escape his inscrutable looks and how close they had gotten during their conversation. Jaime Lannister seemed sincere, which is the part that bothered her the most. If he was hateful and cruel, like Cersei or Joffrey then she would be better able to deflect him. But as it was, she believed him when he'd apologized. She believed him when he said he was there to help, and that only made her feel worse. She still felt the simmering hatred for him inside her, but there was something new bubbling within her and she was disgusted by it. She wouldn't give it a name. She wouldn't acknowledge it. 

 

One way or another, all of this would be decided in a few days when the dead marched on the keep. She already felt an attachment to so many that were fighting. She wouldn't give Jaime Lannister the satisfaction of being one of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited to add an end note: I know there are people reading this story who ship Jaime and Sansa with different people. I feel the need to address this because there have been a lot of comments on this. 1) I understand how you feel. I've read fics in the past where my main couple was the center, but then things I ship on the side were pairings I did not like. I get it. I do. But, I also knew that going into the story and so I had to set that aside to get to the bigger picture. 2) It is what it is at this point. Brienne and Jaime aren't happening here. Sansa and Sandor are not happening here. I don't want anyone to be disappointed at that outcome. I don't want anyone to hate this story because of that. I only hope that you'll give me the chance to tell the story in my head and hopefully, you'll be able to like it in spite of that.


	18. Arya III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya spars with Bronn, has a conversation with the Hound, and...Four.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, I hope you all have a great day! Gendry's chapter is next.

**ARYA**

 

Arya held her blade at Bronn’s throat and he held up both hands, one holding a sword, as she stepped back and they prepared again. He swung at her and she danced from under the sword and then had the tip of Needle pressed beneath his arm and he rolled his eyes. “Where did a little girl learn to fight like you?”

 

“Do I look like a little girl?” Arya questioned. She realized that the Hound was standing nearby and knew she would eventually have to speak to him. She was still uncertain about her feelings for him. She thought he had died but when she’d seen him she was relieved that he hadn’t. She was feeling too many things these days. She wondered how much it was because her past was finally surrounding her. So many faces and people she had squared off against or had cared for were in the same place at the same time.

 

“You’re not a lady,” he responded. “You’re a killer. I go back to my question as to where you learned?”

 

“I’ve had a lot of teachers. Syrio Forel was the first one to teach me how to use a sword. The Hound, though his lesson was more that my sword wouldn’t necessarily penetrate armor, so I had to fight smarter. And the other lessons I took in Braavos.”

 

Sandor approached them and furrowed his brow. “How did you get to Braavos? This after you left me to die?”

 

Bronn looked at Arya. “You bested him?”

 

She shook her head and smiled. “Brienne of Tarth.”

 

“Knocked me down a cliff.”

 

“And you lived?” Bronn questioned.

 

“She let me,” he said looking at Arya. “I still haven’t decided if I want to kill you for that or not. Could have ended my misery then and here.”

 

Arya frowned. “I took you off my list. Don’t put me on yours,” she said softly.

 

“Oh, don’t want me dead anymore?”

 

She shook her head. “No. Most of the ones I want dead are.”

 

Bronn furrowed his brow. “What list?”

 

Arya looked at the Hound and he gave a half smile. “The little wolf has a list of names of people she’s going to kill. One of them is in this castle.”

 

“Who?”

 

Arya eyed the sellsword and frowned. “Not you.”

 

“Jaime?” Bronn asked, curious if his benefactor would need protecting.

 

She shook her head. “No, the Lannister head I want still sits on the throne in King’s Landing.”

 

“Good luck with that, girl. The Mountain would never let you near her.”

 

“He’s on there, too.”

 

“You don’t get to kill him,” Sandor said, vehemently. “His life isn’t yours to take.”

 

“He’s not actually alive. Jaime doesn’t know the specifics, but he’s dead. He’s just up and walking around.” Bronn shrugged. “Something her Hand did.”

 

Arya contemplated this for a moment. Maybe Sandor would be the person to take with her to finally end Cersei’s life. He would be a good distraction against the Mountain to allow her the time needed to kill the Mad Queen. And that’s what she thought of her. Anyone who would blow up a Sept and kill all of those people was clearly insane. She tilted her head at Sandor and then turned to Bronn.

 

“Fuck off and let me talk to the little wolf,” Sandor said to Bronn and turned his full attention to Arya.

 

“I need a drink,” Bronn said as he walked away towards the keep.

 

They were both silent for a moment and then Arya spoke. “I’m going to kill Cersei.”

 

“How many lives have you taken now?” Sandor asked, rather impressed by his former abductee.

 

She shrugged. “Hard to say. I don’t actually know how many were in the Twins when I wiped out the Freys.”

 

Sandor stared at her for a moment and then smirked. “That was you?”  


“The North remembers,” she said softly. “They betrayed my family. None of them could live.”

 

“They the only ones.”

 

“No. There are others,” she said softly. “I like it. Killing.”

 

Sandor nodded. “So do I.”

 

“I don’t want to anymore. Like it, that is.”

 

He shrugged. “If you like it, fucking embrace it. Sometimes that can be the only thing that saves you.”

 

She nodded. “I know. But I think I want to be more than a killer, now. I still plan to kill Cersei, and Jaime if he decides to betray us. And Beric.”

 

Sandor frowned. “Why Beric?”

 

“He sold Gendry to the red witch.”

 

Sandor looked at the ground and she couldn't read the expression on his face. “Before you go taking his last life, maybe you ought to talk to the boy he sold.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Maybe he doesn’t feel like Beric should die. At least not at your hands.”

 

“It’s not up to him.”

 

“Maybe it should be,” he said before he started walking away.

 

“You don’t want to fight me?” Arya asked confused.

 

He took a deep breath and turned to face her. “No, little wolf, I don’t want to fight you. I’ll fight beside you.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t be nice to me, now. I won’t know how to take it.”

 

He chuckled. “You’re still a fucking pain in the ass.”

 

She nodded and smiled. “That’s more familiar. I like it.” He gave her a nod and walked off and was stopped by Davos to speak for a moment. The green dragon flew over the keep and she could barely make out two figures on it.  She could see the familiar white hair of Daenerys, but the other rider was clearly Jon. She walked outside of the gates and watched as the green dragon landed and then let them both climbed down, Jon’s hand lingering for a bit longer as he extended it to the Dragon Queen. Arya rolled her eyes, not understanding why they felt the need to hide their relationship. Anyone with eyes could see it.

 

They stood speaking to one another and Arya decided to interrupt before he got the bad idea to throw Daenerys to the ground and truly cause the Lords of the North to question his sanity. She heard them all asking how he could trust the Mother of Dragons. But then someone always chimed in that she had come North, abandoning her fight with Cersei, for now, in order to try to save them. Her armies were the bulk of the fighting force and her dragons were the one factor that could sway all of this to their side. They usually grew quiet after that. Arya knew that they would respect Daenerys more when they actually saw her go into the field to try to protect them all.

 

She stopped away from the dragons; Daenerys turned to see her and stepped away from Jon, a smile on her face at seeing Arya. They both walked to her and smiled up at her brother. “It’s bizarre to think of you riding a dragon.”

 

“It’s still strange to be on one,” he answered. “I’m not sure if Ghost would consider it a betrayal.”

 

Daenerys smiled. “He’s always been good to me,” she said as they began walking back to the keep.

 

“You haven’t been with him since he was a pup, either,” he said softly and turned to look at Arya. “Sansa told me you saw Nymeria.”

 

Daenerys looked over at Arya as they entered through the gates. “Who is Nymeria?”

 

“She was my direwolf.”

  
“Was?”

 

Jon frowned sadly as Arya explained how Nymeria had come to no longer be with her. If anything it only made her want to kill Joffrey more. It was a name that had been taken from her. She also told them of her meeting with Nymeria on the road back to Winterfell and she felt a hand on her shoulder and smiled up at Jon. “All of them are gone except Nymeria and Ghost.”

 

“What they did with Greywind...” she muttered. “I killed the man who did.” Jon and Daenerys both stopped and looked at her. “I was at the Twins that night. The Hound had taken me there to ransom me to Robb. I could hear screaming inside the keep and watched them come outside and slaughter all of Robb’s men. And then Greywind,” she said as she lowered her eyes to the ground. “The Hound knocked me out and we left, and I came to in time to see that they had cut off Robb’s head and put Greywind’s in its place,” she said softly.  She looked up at Jon. “I killed that man, the Hound killed the others with him. I want everyone that ever harmed our family to suffer a gruesome death.”

 

Jon didn’t speak, but Daenerys did. “I understand. I do. It’s hard to control the rage that can fill you when you know your life could have been so different if people had been honorable. I was betrayed when I was in Qarth. One of my maids that I trusted with my life, helped to slaughter my men and one of my dear friends all for riches. They took my dragons. When I got them back, I found her in the bed of the man who had tried to manipulate me into marrying him.”

 

“Did you burn them?” Jon asked. Arya could see that he didn't necessarily like how Daenerys handled her enemies, but Arya wondered if he judged her harshly or realized that Daenerys did not have the easiest life, and usually did what she thought was right.

 

She shook her head. “No. I locked them into his empty fault. I trusted her, and she betrayed me. Sometimes, we do horrible things in order to avenge those that we love. It’s easy to let that be the only part of us.”

 

Arya was silent for a moment and turned to the silver-haired woman. “How do you balance it?”

 

Daenerys smiled slightly. “It’s difficult. I could have taken King’s Landing the second I got to Westeros and probably only needed one dragon to do it. Too many innocent people would have died and I don’t want to rule solely out of fear. I want people to respect my position. I chose a Hand who challenges me when I want to give in to those impulses, though he does have trouble controlling it at times,” she glanced at Jon. “I know what my father was, and I fear I may become him. But I believe I have enough people around me that love and care for me, that believe in me, that it helps.”

 

“Are you the right one to rule, then?” Arya thought it was a fair question. If she knew about that part of herself, then maybe she could be objective about whether she was the right person to sit on the throne. There had already been one Mad King and a Mad Queen currently occupied the throne. 

 

She took a deep breath. “Better than Cersei, yes,” her eyes met Jon’s, though, and then she smiled. “But I’ve chosen a King who manages to make me see reason when all I want is to burn the world.”  Arya looked over at Jon who continued to stare at the queen. The sound of a Scorpion being shot filled the courtyard and each of them looked up to the final tower to see Gendry loading it again and then climb beneath the machine to make an adjustment. “I hate the thought of those things shooting while we’ll be flying the other two,” Daenerys said.

 

“Which is why men are being trained on them. We don’t want them to fire at us,” Jon said as they watched Gendry move from beneath the Scorpion and one of the men loaded it and it fired again, this time the sound more pronounced and they watched the spear fly clear over the field, so far, Arya didn't only just saw it land. One of the guards on the wall clapped as the Smith slapped Gendry on the back.

 

Arya smiled. _Four_.

  


*~*

 

She hadn’t gone to him right away, simply watched as he made his way back into the forge and other men carried groups of spears to the top of the towers. There appeared to be more of ten for each weapon. Arya had only seen Gendry in passing as he didn’t take meals in the hall and she heard he hadn’t slept in his room, but had only managed an hour of sleep in the forge between weapons. She had seen him giving instructions to some of the others as she’d been training with Brienne and Podrick that morning. She thought it was absurd that Gendry thought she would ever let Podrick touch her like she wanted him to. Bronn had only offered to spar with her after Brienne had been called to Sansa’s side.

 

But now, Arya leaned against the far wall and watched as men moved out of the forge carrying dozens of the bolts needed to load into the Scorpion.  Gendry appeared in the doorway to watch them leave and he looked exhausted.  Jon approached him and shook his hand.  She drifted closer and hid at the corner of the wall to hear their conversation, trying to remain out of eyesight of both men.

 

“When Davos told me you could do this, I thought you would consider it a slap in the face,” Jon said softly, and Arya understood that her brother was more able to read people than she had thought. “And if you did think of it that way, I apologize. But we needed someone we knew could do the work quickly and would understand that nothing came before this. You’d seen and fought the dead. You, better than anyone, understood the threat that is bearing down on us.” Jon nodded. “We’re forever in your debt.” He heaved a sigh and looked away from Gendry, clearly uncomfortable with where the conversation was going.  “I suppose Arya has told you the plan for battle? You’ll be in the courtyard with her.”

 

“Yes, she told me.”

 

“Arya is more than capable of taking care of herself, but I feel more comfortable having someone there who cares about her to watch her back.” Gendry nodded while Arya wondered where her brother was going with this conversation. “When we met, you told me you were the bastard of Robert Baratheon and that you had met my father once. You never mentioned that you traveled with Arya. Why?”

 

Gendry furrowed his brow and rubbed a hand over his head. “I don’t know. I wanted to tell you, but the truth is, I was afraid to say her name out loud and be questioned about what happened to her. I didn’t know. I knew I had chosen to not go with her to her brother and she was angry with me. When the Brotherhood sold me, though, I didn’t know what had happened to her after that. I didn’t want to think the worst, because I knew her and her unbelievable ability to survive. But I wasn’t sure what happened to her and I didn’t...none of my reasons really make sense other than it pained me to think about her alone.”

 

“You care for her more than we know, don’t you?” Jon questioned softly.

 

“To be honest, Jon, I think I love her,” he heaved a sigh. “For longer than even I knew. But I’m a bastard and she’s a lady. We’re not supposed to be together...”

 

“And if I legitimized you,” Jon offered? “Would you want that?”

 

Gendry was quiet and Arya wondered what he would say. She didn’t need him to be a legitimate heir. Other people would want him to be, simply for appearances, but she would never allow his name to keep them from being together if it was what they both wanted. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and clear, “It depends on what she wants.”

 

They were both silent and Arya found that her heart was near to beating out of her chest. Gendry loved her and Jon would legitimize him so they could be together. She had no desire to marry, but the thought that she could keep Gendry forever made her mouth go dry.  “There’s a room waiting for you in the castle with a bath.  Anything you want, ask,” Jon told him.

 

“Thank you,” he said with a nod before Jon walked away and joined Daenerys, Tyrion, Jorah, and Davos as they started out of the gates on horseback this time.  

 

Gendry heaved a sigh and started towards the castle and was greeted by one of the women she’d seen tending to Sansa.  She was younger than Sansa, but older than her. And she was pretty. She wondered if Gendry thought so. “I was told by Lady Sansa to escort you to your chambers,” she said softly and turned to lead the way. She didn't like the appraising look on the girl's face as she looked at Gendry. Arya hated her. If she laid so much as a hand on him, she’d remove all of her fingers followed by her hands at the wrist. She followed them to a room and the woman stopped outside the door. “King Jon asked that we have clothing brought in to you.  If you’ll leave what you have on outside your door, we’ll have them cleaned and brought to you on the morrow. There's also a meal waiting for you inside.”

 

Gendry nodded before he walked into the room and Arya ducked down the corridor to avoid the passing woman.  She crept down the hall and opened Gendry’s door to find him naked, holding his pants in front of him, a look of irritation on his face. “Seven hells, Arya!”

 

She closed the door behind her, never taking her eyes from Gendry and the fine line of hair that trailed down his abdomen, the rest of it was hidden beneath his discarded pants that he still used as a shield. She slid the latch into place and shrugged. “I told you I would find you.”

 

He looked down and swallowed thickly. “Does it have to be when I’m exhausted and covered in soot and ash?” he questioned.

 

“You have a bath,” she gestured to the tub. “Don’t let me stop you,” she said, sounding more confident than she felt.

 

“With you in here?” his voice held a soft timber, but she could hear the nervousness behind it. 

 

She smiled slowly.  “I’ll wait for you,” she said as she removed the belt from around her waist and placed the knife on the table beside his bed and the sword leaned against it.  She turned to face him to find him still watching her. “What’s wrong?”

 

He looked worried as his eyes drifted to the closed and latched door. “What if your brother decides to come talk to me again?”

 

“He’s gone out to ride the field with the others. He won’t be back until the sun sets,” she loosened the ties of her cloak and pulled it over her head and she could feel his eyes move along her body. “You should really take your bath,” she said as she sat in the chair beside the tub and removed her boots.  She watched as his breathing sped and his eyes became transfixed on her feet, then met her eyes.

 

“I knew it years ago, but you’re going to be the reason I die,” he muttered and moved to the bath and dropped his pants.  She released a pent up breath at seeing him naked in front of her.  She’d see him naked before when they’d been on the road.  The number of times she’d seen a man’s penis couldn’t actually be calculated. Especially when they thought there were just men in the vicinity.  They would whip out their cocks and urinate anywhere.  Gendry was included in that, as well.  This was nothing like those times.

 

The trail of hair that started at just below his sternum to move over the rigid line of his belly and encompassed his cock which was sticking straight, bobbing as he moved into the tub.  He leaned his head back for a moment as the hot water soothed his aching bones and body. She almost felt bad that she had no intention of letting him rest for long. She’d spent days thinking of Gendry and his calloused hands.  The tongue that had tentatively come out to touch her lips she wanted between her folds bringing her to heights of pleasure she’d only recently found with her fingers.  She always thought of him and how it would feel if it were his fingers.  They were bigger than hers, would probably fill her better. Or his mouth and his sinful tongue to lick her, his hot breath warming the inside of her thighs.  He lifted a handful of water to his face and she watched as soot washed into the water.  He was dirty and tired and he would be completely hers by the end of the night.

 

She reached over and handed him soap then began undoing the laces on the front of her jerkin and his eyes were transfixed to her fingers.  She tilted her head at him.  “I need you clean,” she whispered and nodded to the soap in his hands.  He closed his eyes and scrubbed his face.  She removed the heavy leather piece and allowed it to hang over the back of her chair as he cleaned the rest of his body, his muscles moving beneath the tight skin.  The muscles moved over his shoulders, his neck, and chest; she had thought of little else over the last few days.  When she’d see him as she walked past the forge, or snuck inside to speak to him, he was completely lost in thought as to what he was doing.  She could see the expanse of muscles in his forearms as he’d rolled up the sleeves of his tunic or had donned the one that had no sleeves but left his arms completely exposed. She had lusted from afar, always where she could see him but not letting him know she was there.  His blue eyes were transfixed on his work and her eyes were constantly watching the way his body moved. She wanted it pressed against her and his mouth on hers. She wanted all the naughty things that she knew ladies weren't supposed to want, but she didn't consider herself a lady, so that didn't matter. She wanted all of it and she wanted it from him.

 

She undid the laces of her breeches and slid them over her legs, leaving her in only her tunic and small clothes.  He sunk beneath the water came up and shook his head as she’d seen their direwolves do in the past, shaking off the extra water.  He opened one eye and groaned.  He shook his head and turned his gaze to her fully and licked his lips. Her pulse quickened as he held his hand out to her and she took it.  He tugged on her to stand and she stepped closer to him and he stood as well.  His wet fingers brushed against her cheek and she slid her hands over his chest and over his shoulders.  He tilted her mouth up to his at the same time he pulled her against him.  She moaned into his mouth as his tongue sought entrance to hers, somewhat amazed to feel the hard length of him pressed against her. She stepped back, causing him to nearly fall from the tub.  He climbed out and began backing her towards the bed, his wet body causing her remaining clothes to stick to her.  

 

He pulled her tunic over her head and despite the cold, she felt warm everywhere.  Gendry lifted her to the edge of the bed as if she weighed nothing.  She knew he was strong, seen him wield both his war hammer and the one in the forge, but feeling that power around her made her find his lips again.  His tongue danced against hers as his hands helped to remove her small clothes.  She knew she should probably be shy, hide her body or have some feeling of modesty, but she didn’t.  She felt hot and wanted his mouth and hands everywhere.

 

The kiss was broken when he began trailing kisses along her throat, nipping his teeth against her pulse.  She dragged her fingers over his neck, shoulders, and stopped at the start of the faint line of hair on his abdomen.  She stroked her thumb through it as he gasped. He lowered his head and took the tip of her breast into his mouth and her body responded by thrusting up towards him.  It was her turn to gasp as his tongue flicked over the tip and gooseflesh appeared.  He held one hand in the middle of her back and cupped her other breast with his free hand.

 

She moaned his name, wanting more but not really sure more of what.  She wanted him to kiss her again, but she didn’t want him to stop what he was doing.  She wanted his lips and tongue and fingers at her cunt, but thought she would break apart in his arms if he removed himself from where he was now. When he did pull away from her, she whimpered. But he pushed her back on the bed and his lips began moving lower. She stroked over his head and sighed as he stopped at the three scars on her abdomen. His fingers ran over them and he lifted his head to look at her, concern in his gaze. “What happened?”

 

“I was stabbed,” she whispered.

 

“By who?”

 

She smiled and brought his lips back to her skin. “No one,” she muttered then moaned as he licked each one, her thighs tightening around him until he pushed them farther apart. His hands slid beneath her and she felt his hot breath against her folds.  Arya lifted her hips, silently pleading with him to end her agony. When she felt his tongue slide against the slippery folds, her back bowed on the bed, all reason, logic and any other thought flew from her mind. He put a hand on each knee and pushed them flat to the bed, holding her in place.  She groaned as he licked the length of her slit and then up to her clit.  She felt open and exposed, vulnerable under his mouth and hands. Feeling vulnerable had been a foreign feeling to her. She hadn’t expected it. But for him and the closer she got to the edge, she welcomed it. Only for him.

 

She felt her body tightening, the feeling of being close to an edge and not quite reaching it. She felt him release one of her legs as his finger moved to her sex. The glide of them against her and the feeling of her body clenching around the finger he slid inside her caused her body to convulse, racked with her climax, his name torn from her lips in a guttural groan. She thrust her hips against his finger, wanting to feel more. He moved his lips back over her abdomen and she could feel the moisture of her cunt on his face. _Wet and messy_. When his lips settled over the dips of her collarbone and his free hand moved over her breast, she wanted to taste him.  She pulled his face to hers and he seemed to hesitate. She wouldn’t let him as her lips claimed his. She swept her tongue into his mouth and it was his turn to moan. He tasted of something slightly salty and she realized it was her on his tongue. Her nails dug into his shoulders and back. She didn’t care if she marked him, in fact, she hoped she did. He was hers. She was his.

 

He slid a hand beneath her shoulders and the other beneath her hips as he lifted her in his arms and moved her father back on the bed. “More,” her voice rasped against his skin. “I need more.” Her fingers moved between them and grasped his cock in her hands.  His mouth found the pulse in her throat and he sucked it and then lathed against it with his tongue.

 

She felt him move her hands aside and guided him to her entrance. He pulled his mouth from her then and stared down at her. His expression was one of hunger and concern. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

 

“Yes. Never more certain.” She cupped his face in her hands again to kiss him. She broke the kiss when he brushed the tip of his cock against her clit, causing an involuntary shiver. The slight smirk on his face nearly caused her to push him to his back and end their torment together until she felt him slip down and thrust forward into her. He shifted and had an elbow pressed to the feather mattress at her shoulders while his hands cupped her face and he kissed her. There was an odd stretching sensation of him filling her, but it didn’t hurt the way she’d heard others talk about it.  She expected pain, a lot of it. And when he pulled back and thrust forward again, she did feel it slightly then, but not enough to let him stop.

 

“Alright?” he asked and she nodded. “Let me know if you’re not.  We’ll stop,” he said, though she could hear the strain in his voice.

 

“Don’t you dare stop,” she responded and dug her nails into his ass. He pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes never breaking from hers. His hands cupped her face, bringing her lips back to his.  He continued to thrust into her and she whimpered against his lips. She wrapped her legs around his waist when he broke the kiss and moved back to her throat and bit along her skin.  Her body coiled around his and finally shattered when he licked a path from her shoulder to just beneath her jaw.

 

She could feel him begin to pull out from her and she shook her head.  “No.  I’ll have you,” she muttered against his lips.  

 

“Arya...” she could see him begin to protest, but she tightened her thighs around him.

 

“Moon tea,” was all she said as she grabbed his hips and pulled them forcefully against her. She felt her body tightened around his cock which made him groan from low in his throat and he gave a few more shallow thrusts before he buried his face in her neck and shuddered in her arms.  

 

*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the support and I hope you all like this chapter!


	19. Gendry III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya share some moments together until they are interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for your kind support. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Yes, this is sort of fluffy, but come on, need some happy every once in a while. 
> 
> A/N: Everyone run, don't walk, to the first chapter of this fic and look at the gorgeous piece of artwork that thefuzzyaya did for this fic. I'm speechless and everyone needs to see it!

**GENDRY**

 

He couldn’t move even if he wanted to. If Jon walked into that room right then and told him to get off of Arya or he’d kill him, Gendry would give her one last kiss and welcome death. He knew his weight on top of her was probably crushing her, but she only wrapped her arms around his neck and moved heated kisses along his jaw. She was everything he wanted in one small, fiery package. They’d marked one another as he knew she’d have a purpling bruise over her throat and only a bit of time would tell the sort of damage her nails had done to his skin.  They were the kind of battle scars he wanted.

 

He felt her lips against his ears and her smile. “Are you alive?”

  
“Barely,” he responded and laughed. “Do you want me to move?” he asked, wondering where he would find the strength.

 

“Never,” she whispered. “Let’s stay like this, always.”

 

He chuckled. “Good way to die, I suppose.”

 

She shook her head and lifted his so he could look at her. “You don’t get to die unless I say so.”

  
He smirked and brushed her hair away from her face. “Is that so?”

 

“Yes. Swear it to me, now,” her smile was teasing and he wondered how he was going to ever be convinced to leave this room. To leave the comfort of her arms.

 

He shook his head and placed a kiss on her nose, then her chin. “I’m not making a vow I can’t necessarily keep. Have you come after me in the afterlife for not keeping my word?”

 

She closed her eyes. “I won’t let you go. Not now.”

 

He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip as his hand cupped her face. “You’re possessive,” he whispered after a moment. “I’m strangely attracted to that.”

 

She grinned. “If we examine this too closely I think we’d both find it to be strange.”

 

He nodded. “Fair.” He kissed her again and when they pulled away, he managed to roll to his back beside her. The loss of heat from her body caused an involuntary shiver to course through him.

 

“You were wrong,” she said as she propped her head up on an elbow and traced patterns over his chest with her other hand.

 

He furrowed his brow, trying not to drift off to sleep. “Not surprising but what exactly was I wrong about?”

 

She moved closer to him, her mouth hovering just above his ear. “It was a very _good_ idea for you to show me the Lord’s kiss.”

 

He snorted and looked over at her. “I'm honored, m’lady.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him, but there was still a hint of a smile on her face. “Do you want me to hit you?”

 

He laughed and tugged her against him. “Well, you've already scratched my back to hell. Maybe I like your violent tendencies.”

 

She smiled and grew quiet. She snuggled into the side of him. “Why did you pay women for sex?”

 

“You want to talk about this now?” He asked and at her nod, he looked down at her. “I only paid one. The other I don't want to talk about,” he said angrily.

 

She lifted her head. “You're not getting out of the conversation now. What happened?”

 

He sighed, dreading her reaction, afraid she would laugh at him. It was a source of anger and shame for him. Anger because the woman had found his weakness and preyed upon it, shame because it had left him more damaged than he thought possible.  “The red witch. She tied me down to a bed, climbed on top of me and...I was out of sorts. She was seducing me. She only wanted my blood to run hot so she could take it. She used leeches...”

 

Arya sat up and looked down at him, her gray eyes concentrated on his. “She hurt you,” she said softly.

 

He frowned. “Took something from me, too. I didn't trust anyone after that, really. Not even Davos, at first. Not until he let me go.”

 

She furrowed her brow and looked at his chest. He felt her fingers smooth over the first, second, then the third mark left by the leeches. “She's on my list you know. For taking you from me. Beric and Thoros for selling you. Though Thoros is dead, so I suppose I can remove him.”

 

He captured her fingers in his hand and sighed. A short time ago, he would have relished the thought of someone killing Beric and Thoros. But now that Thoros was dead and knew that Beric was set on fighting against the dead, he felt differently. He knew why they did what they did. He didn’t like it, but he knew the reality of it. They either handed him over willingly, got the gold they needed, or they would have all probably been killed by whatever magic the red witch had. After a moment in which he stared down at their joined hands, he said softly, “Release Beric.”

 

She shook her head, her eyes hardened. “Why?”

 

He moved on the bed so he was sitting facing her. “Because I'm asking you to. There's not really a reason that I can explain. I just don't feel like he should die.” He was momentarily distracted by her lean body. He could see faint whisker burns along her abdomen and even vaguely between her thighs. He realized she was still waiting for him to speak, and so he continued.  “When I saw him again, I was furious. I wanted your brother to kill them where they stood. But I fought with them beyond the wall, saw Thoros get attacked by an undead bear and Beric cauterize the wound with his flaming sword. I’ve seen what’s coming and we need fighters.”

 

She seemed to be weighing this and turned her gray eyes back to him. She didn’t agree or disagree with what he said, but instead, changed the subject on him. “You paid the other one?”

 

At this, he blushed and could feel it moving up his face. “Yes. The nightmare of the red witch wasn't letting me...find relief.” He sighed and propped his arms on his bent knees as she sat facing him on hers. The moment wasn’t lost on Gendry. It was intimate, sharing one of the worst experiences of his life with the one person who meant the most to him. Under normal circumstances, he never would have paid for the services of a woman. But he was truly at a loss of what to do, the memory so clear in his mind. “So, I paid to try and have the _memory_ removed.”

 

“Did it work?” She asked, no jealousy or anger behind her tone, just curiosity.

 

He shrugged. “I haven't had a problem with getting off since,” he smirked but her expression changed to one of anger and he was confused by it. “Don't be angry.”

 

Arya took a deep breath and leaned her chin against his knee. “I am. But not at you.” Her fingers danced over a healed burn on his arm, her eyes fixed on it. When she spoke, her words were soft but clear. “I’m angry at what that witch did to you.”

 

He ran a hand over his head and pulled her closer to him. “She's not here,” he reminded and tugged at the tie that held her hair back from her face and tossed it to the table beside the bed. His fingers moved through her hair as she leaned forward and kissed him. His hands cupped her face and she straddled his waist. He trailed his lips over her chin, throat, and to her breasts cupping one and licking the other. “It's you and I. That's what matters.”

 

He looked up at her to find her biting her lip. She moved her hands over his neck, shoulders, and down to his cock which was nearly fully hard. A few strokes of her hand over his heated skin and he pulled her flush against him.  “I get to be on top, now,” she insisted and pushed him to his back. He felt a slight bit of panic until he was encased inside the warm heat of her cunt.

 

He let out a staggered breath and he saw her wince and he gripped her hips. “Are you alright?” he questioned.

 

Her eyes met his and she gave him a smile and sat back. “I hear this is similar to riding a horse,” she said as she leaned up and thrust back down, but she didn’t make a face or cry out in pain. She rocked against him and he licked his lips, trying to control the need to thrust up into her. Instead, he let her set the pace, her hands braced on his chest while his explored the contours and planes of her lithe body.  She tossed her head back as his fingers found the tips of her breasts and she thrust her hips against his hard.  “Gendry,” she moaned, and he knew he wanted to hear her say his name like that forever. Married or not, she would be his for the rest of his life.

 

*~*

 

He was dozing beside her, the only sound that of the fire and their breathing. The top fur had been tossed to the floor as Arya had realized it was stained with blood.  He thought she looked strangely embarrassed by this. He was curled on his side, his face beside her ear.  She lay on her back, her eyes closed as his thumb rubbed small circles over the flesh of her hip and she traced over the arm at her waist. She leaned her head against his and he could almost hear her smile as she whispered his name. “Gendry?”

 

He opened one eye and peeked at her to find that she was looking at him. “Mmm,” was all he was able to manage. He was exhausted from being up for several days and then how they’d spent their afternoon learning one another’s bodies. He didn’t know if he liked licking and touching her more or having her kiss and taste him.  He closed his eyes and remembered the feel of her lips closing around his cock tentatively.  But then her moans when he’d made her come twice on his tongue were something he’d never forget either.

 

She smiled and moved into his arms and pushed him to his back to allow her to lay in his arms once more. “How long until you think you'll want to do it again?”

 

He groaned. “I haven't slept in almost three days.”

 

“So...an hour?”

 

Gendry was thrilled that she couldn’t get enough of him as he certainly would never get his fill of her. He smiled at the top of her head and placed a kiss in her hair. He entwined their fingers. “Less.”

 

*~*

 

Gendry had awoken to the sound of someone knocking on the door and lifted his head to see Arya, fully dressed save her one boot which she held in her hand. He climbed from the bed and donned his breeches and watched her grab her sword to hide behind the door.

 

He opened it to reveal Davos who smiled at him. “I saw the Scorpions being tested and men training on how to use them this afternoon. You did a good job.”

 

Gendry nodded. “Thank you.”

 

“I'm sure you're aware that I was the one who suggested you. I didn't mean offense.”

 

He shook his head. “Not a problem.”

 

“May I come in?”

 

Gendry frowned, wanting Davos to leave before he discovered the secret that was currently peeking out of the crack in the door after she had finally pulled on her other boot. “I was sleeping,” he said, though it wasn’t actually a lie. He simply hadn’t been sleeping alone. “I haven't done that in a few days.”

 

“Ah, of course, it's just that Lady Sansa is looking for her sister and someone suggested she come looking here. I managed to cut her off and steer her to the forge, but I don’t think she'll be there for long,” he whispered and Arya stepped from around the door.

 

“You saw nothing,” she said as she took her sword and left Gendry's room.

 

Davos cast a look at Gendry and then smiled at the quickly retreating form of Arya. “You won't say anything, will you?” Gendry asked for reassurance. The man had gone out of his way to protect him in the past, he didn’t know how far that would extend.

 

“And have her kill me? No. But be careful. Seems like she leaves a mark,” Davos pointed to his own shoulder to let him know that there was evidence of them together. Gendry looked and could see what looked to be claw marks. Arya Stark’s fingernails were sharper than they looked.

 

“Thank you.”

 

He gave a final nod and Gendry closed the door behind him. He pulled his tunic over his head, trying to absorb some of the warmth of the room and was nearly on the bed when another knock sounded. Gendry checked the room quickly then opened the door to find Sansa.  He bowed his head and frowned. “Lady Sansa.”

 

“May I come in?” she asked, and Lady Brienne stood outside the door.

 

He moved out of the way and allowed her into the room and she nodded to Brienne to stay where she was. Sansa closed the door behind her and she looked around briefly before her eyes landed on the table beside his bed. He noticed the tie that Arya used to pull her hair back and mentally berated himself for missing it. Sansa then turned her eyes to his. “We met the other morning but didn't get the opportunity to speak.” He remained silent, knowing that people only said things like that when _they_ wanted to speak. “I understand you know my sister well.”

 

 _Intimately._ “We knew one another years ago. Fought for each other.”

 

“And how do you feel about her now?”

 

“My lady, that's...between your sister and me,” he knew he was taking a gamble, but he had no desire to discuss his relationship, sexual or otherwise, with her sister.

 

Sansa frowned. “Your relationship, past and present is fodder for gossips. Everyone suspects you've bedded her, if not recently, then years ago.”

 

“I've never said anything of the sort to anyone,” he replied vehemently.

 

Sansa smiled. “Arya has no interest in getting married, but that doesn't mean she doesn't love you. I simply hope you love and respect her enough to make sure that anyone who speaks badly of her in your presence...”

 

“Will leave without their tongues, my lady.”

 

She nodded and walked to the door. “New clothes are being sent up for you. Jon’s request. Says you'll need a warrior's garb if you're to take your place in the fight beside Arya.”

 

He smiled and felt a bit relieved at the thought that he might have just received her approval for his relationship with her younger sister. “Thank you.”

 

Sansa nodded. “I'll also send up a salve to help with the scratches on your neck,” she said before she left and his hand felt along his neck and groaned.

 

He removed his tunic and his leathers as he climbed onto the feather mattress, beneath the furs and tried to block out the last two conversations. Sleep was coming quickly when his door opened and closed. He opened his eyes to see Arya latch the door and begin removing her clothes. He smiled when she climbed into bed beside him.

 

“Not sure how much time we have before we're interrupted,” he said as his arms moved around her.

 

He felt her lips against the scratches at his neck and shoulder. “I spoke with Sansa on my way back. She's going to keep everyone away.”

 

“You marked me up where people could see,” he whispered. “On purpose or an accident?”

 

“Both. Once I realized I'd done it, I didn't care,” she answered honestly. “You marked me too,” she said showing him the bit mark at her pulse.

 

“On purpose.” He tilted his head and smiled at her. His tone grew serious as she snuggled into his arms. “Your brother offered to legitimize me so I could marry you,” he said softly.

 

She nodded and laced their fingers together. “I know. I heard the conversation.”

 

He wasn’t surprised by this and continued on. “You have no intention of ever getting married,” he said, to which she nodded, “but I would ask this of you: should you become pregnant, you’ll reconsider.”

 

“Why?” she asked and pushed herself up to her elbow to look down at him as he rolled to his side to face her.

 

“I was raised a bastard. Your brother, Jon, was raised a bastard.” He shook his head. “It’s horrible to feel like you’ll never belong. And if you were to become pregnant...it would be our child, yours and mine, and I wouldn’t want for them to feel like they weren’t wanted or were a mistake.”

 

She moved her fingers along his jaw and leaned her forehead against his. “And none of this is because you want me to be your wife?”

 

He held her close and kissed her softly. When he broke the kiss, his eyes were staring into hers and he felt lost in the dark gray. “I want that. But I know you don’t. You’re never going to be the lady of a keep because that’s not you.” She closed her eyes as his fingers moved along her spine and tilted her head back, relishing in the way she reacted to the tingling sensation over her skin. “I don’t care how we belong to one another as long as we’re together,” he whispered.

 

She shook her head and sighed. “Fine. Should I become pregnant, we’ll marry.”

 

He smiled. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever actually agreed to something without a fight.”

 

She shrugged. “Don’t get used to it,” she said with a smile as she kissed him. “You need sleep,” she whispered against his skin.

 

“As m’lady commands,” he smiled against her hair.

 

“Don’t make me kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can follow me on social media at the following addresses:  
> tumblr: ashleyfanfic  
> twitter: ashleyfanfic
> 
> I've had this pen name since I was 14, I believe.


	20. Jon IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intimate moments and it's about to go down! And not in that good way we all want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by the songs "Ready for Love" by India Arie and "Never Felt this Way" by Alicia Keys. Believe me, this never would have been written without them.
> 
> Also, please go to the first chapter of this story and look at the beautiful, amazing, breathtaking work done for this fic by the amazingly talented thefuzzyaya. Heap loads of praise on her.

**JON**

 

Jon approached the bed and handed Daenerys a glass of wine. She was sitting, her legs tucked beneath the furs as she wore Jon’s discarded tunic. The survey of the field that afternoon had buoyed his spirits a bit, seeing that the outer trench was complete and circled the entire keep and the second one was nearly complete. The barrels of pitch were loaded on the side of the keep where the Dothraki and Unsullied hadn’t set up their tents. He was proud that their people were working together, even if most of the North still considered them foreign invaders. He knew that when they saw what Daenerys and her armies could do, they would rally behind her as he had.

 

She took the glass of wine and sipped it and wrinkled her nose.  He smiled. “It’s not to everyone’s taste.”

 

“I suppose I’ve become used to Dornish wine. It’s a bit sweeter,” she said as she placed the glass on the table beside the bed, took his hand in hers, noticed the scar on his hand and she looked up at him. “You were burned?”

 

They sat facing one another, one of Jon’s legs tucked beneath him as he sat staring at his queen. And she was _his_ queen. He looked at the scar himself and nodded. “It was the first time I had ever fought against a wight. Ghost,” he said, looking at the great wolf that was curled at the end of the bed, though he took up more room than Jon or Dany, “was scratching at the door. When I followed him out of the room and into the Lord Commander’s, one of our men we had found dead was in there, only he wasn’t dead any longer. I used every weapon I had to try to kill him. I finally grabbed a lantern and threw it at him and it burned my hand.”

 

She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. “I can’t be hurt by fire,” she said softly. “I’ve walked through it twice now. I don’t feel the heat.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “How?”

 

She shrugged and gave him a soft smile. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m really am a dragon,” she teased.

 

He smiled. “I’ve seen your temper. I’d believe that.”

 

She shook her head. “Everyone is always talking about my short temper.”

 

He looked down at the furs spread across the bed. “Well, you have set a lot of people on fire.”

 

Daenerys smirked. “When we first met, I wanted you to be one of those. I’m glad I never followed through.”

 

He frowned. “So many things could have gone wrong. I thought you would behead me or burn me alive.”

 

“Those were two options. But, I was in need of allies in a country I hadn’t been in since I was a baby. Roasting the second person alive that came into my throne room wouldn’t have been a very smart decision politically. And I think Tyrion would have never spoken to me again.”

 

“Who was the first person to come to your throne room?”

 

Daenerys reached for her wine and took a sip, this time without the face. She held it in her hands, deciding to finish it before they went to sleep.  “A red priestess named Mellisandre.”

 

Jon’s eyebrows rose. “Mellisandre?”  

 

Daenerys must have realized he knew who she was and continued on with her story. “The first night I was in Dragonstone she appeared. She’s the one who told me to summon you. That we both had parts to play in the upcoming war.”  She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “You know her. How?”

 

“She’s the one that brought me back after my men...” he lowered his head. “She traveled with us as we went to Winterfell. But...once I knew what she had done, I couldn’t allow her to stay. She’d done enough for me that I wouldn’t allow her to be put to death. But she burned the Princess Shireen alive to satisfy the fire god.” He frowned. “I’d met the princess when Stannis was at Castle Black. She was just a little girl. Davos loved her like she was his.”

 

She frowned. “And Stannis didn’t take retribution?”

 

At this, he sighed. “They consented.”

 

Daenerys finished the rest of her wine at that and stared at the empty glass. “I’ve lost a child. I couldn’t imagine giving his up willingly.”

 

Jon shook his head. “Not that it’s a consolation, but you still have two dragons.”

 

She frowned. “I lost an actual child,” she said softly. She stared at him for a moment and he could see the pain in her gaze. He wanted to erase it. He wanted to comfort her, to keep out anything that would ever hurt her. “You said that the witch might not be the person I should trust for information,” she smiled sadly. “I was pregnant with the stallion who would mount the world. Rhaego. Drogo had promised to cross the sea and give me my throne.”

 

She shook her head, a sad smile on her face. “He would have, had he lived. He would have killed every person standing in his way. Westeros would not have survived his invasion. When we were on the road, the Dothraki seized a village and were taking women as their slaves. It’s who they are. I saw one of his riders attacking one of the women and I made him stop. It was taken before Drogo and he gave me my way. The other man was furious and challenged him, and cut him with his blade.” She smirked at the memory. “When Drogo decided to fight him, he didn’t use a weapon. He killed him with his bare hands. But I was worried the wound would fester, and the woman I saved offered to tend to it,” she blinked several times and Jon realized it was to keep from crying. “It did fester. She told me there was a ritual we could do to save his life. Only death can pay for life,” she looked away from him. “Rhaego was born. Jorah told me that he never lived. Covered in scales like a lizard with the wings of a bat.” One tear did roll down her face, but she wiped it away quickly. “And even though that might have been true...he was still my son and I never got to touch him. I paid for Drogo’s life with Rhaego’s. But Drogo...he was gone, too.”

 

“I can’t have children because of her curse. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she whispered. “You should know by now that I don’t simply take people at their word.” He gave her a half smile, knowing that she was speaking the truth. It had taken her going over the wall to believe that the dead were real. “I’ve...had other lovers since Drogo. That’s how I know she was telling the truth.”

 

He furrowed his brow and looked up at her. “I’m sorry. For all of it.”

 

She reached out her hand a cupped his cheek, a soft smile on her face. “What sort of man are you, Jon? You apologize for things you can’t change or control. And you’re sincere.”  She leaned forward and kissed him briefly, neither actually noticing that Ghost moved to the floor in front of the fire. “I’m fortunate to have you. It’s actually a comfort to me that you are a Targaryen. I don’t...feel so alone in the world.”

 

He shook his head and put her empty glass on the table. He moved over her, his lips finding hers as he pushed her back on the bed. He was cradled between her thighs and a soft moan escaped her at his kiss. “You’re not alone,” he whispered against her lips. Her hands moved over his back. “I want you. Forever. However long that might be.”

 

She smiled. “Then I’m yours. Forever.”

 

“Does that mean if I asked you’d be my wife?”

 

She chuckled and leaned up to kiss him. “If you asked.”

 

Jon pulled back from her just a bit, his eyes finding hers. “Then, would you, Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen. Breaker of chains. The mother of dragons...and other titles I don’t remember,” he said with a slight laugh and even she giggled, “would you take me as your husband?”

 

She cupped his face in her hands. “I should make you work for it.”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I still have to prove my love?”

 

She shook her head. “You don’t have to prove anything to me. I will be your wife, my love.”

 

He smiled and kissed her, his tongue dipping out to taste her. There was wine, to be sure, but something that was distinctly Daenerys. She reached between them and guided him inside her, both moaning as he filled her. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him close. He made shallow thrusts inside her and she shivered in response. “Jon,” she gasped as his lips trailed against her jaw and neck, all the while she thrust her hips up against his. She broke apart in his arms, crying out his name as he slammed his hips against hers a few more times until he shouted her name and held her hips tightly against his as he felt his seed spill into her.

 

*~*

 

Jon didn’t know how long they’d been asleep, but Ghost was whimpering at the door, scratching at it fiercely. He sat up and looked to the window, could see that it was still dark outside. But the wolf pacing in front of the door, and a growl escaping from him at his movements.  He climbed from the bed and pulled his discarded tunic over his head then his leathers. He grabbed Longclaw and moved to the door. This felt too familiar. Much like he’d told Daenerys about earlier.

 

Daenerys was now sitting up in bed looking at them both. “What’s happening?”

 

Jon shook his head, a frown on his face. “I don’t know. Stay here, and latch the door behind me.”

 

Daenerys climbed from the bed and grabbed her robe to put on as she met Jon at the door. “Be careful,” she whispered.

 

He opened the door and Ghost ran down the corridor, with Jon following close behind. They were met in the hall by a guard. “Your grace! Come quickly. Your sister has been attacked!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, you'll find out what happened in the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.


	21. Sansa V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hope dangles on a string like slow spinning redemption, winding in and winding out, the shine of it has caught my eye..." ~ Vindicated - Dashboard Confessional

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I know most of you think I'm evil for giving you cliffhangers, but I have no shame and will continue to do it. BWAHAHAHAHAHA!
> 
> And I know we just had a Sansa chapter not long ago, but there is a point and purpose of all of this. I promise.

  


**SANSA**

 

The castle was eerily silent. The army of the dead was only two days away.  As if a horde of undead soldiers bearing down on the keep wasn’t bad enough.  Daenerys’ fury at her dragon being used had been something to behold and not Jon or Tyrion could convince her not to fly off on Drogon for a bit.  She didn’t know what had happened once Jon had taken to the sky on the back of the green dragon, Rhaegal.  

 

When they returned, they seemed to be more united. Jon looked to the Dragon Queen as if for approval and she him. They had left dinner early, together, nearly every night.  And since their brief conversation in which Arya told her to not interfere in her relationship with Gendry and to keep everyone away from them, she’d seen very little of her sister.  But then, everyone seemed to be holed up in their room or tent, taking comfort in whatever it was that would bring them a moment of peace.  She had watched Arya slip into Gendry’s room.  She knew that her sister was bedding the heir to Robert Baratheon, but having actual confirmation of it was a bit much.  Jon had Daenerys.  Arya and Gendry.  Even Tyrion, her former husband, had managed to sneak a whore into the keep.  She knew about it, but who was she to deny anyone the last bit of happiness before their world changed, for better or worse.  She stood out on the rampart, ignoring the cold wind blowing against her.  

 

She heard feet shuffle along the stone and turned to see Jaime where he had stopped, a frown on his face.  He gave her a brief nod and then moved to stand beside her.  “Can’t sleep, my lady?”

 

She shook her head.  “The world as we know it will end in a few days,” she said softly. “That sort of change doesn’t allow for much sleep.”

 

He nodded. “You could always start drinking.”

 

She sighed. “And die with a headache? No, thank you.”

 

He sighed. “You have so little faith?”

 

“Why should I have faith that this will end well?  Nothing else ever seems to.”

 

“Your dim outlook on life leaves a lot to be desired.”

 

“What is there to hope for?” She turned to look at him. “Let’s say they win this war.  They then march south into another one.” She shook her head. “I’m simply ready for the fighting to stop.  One way or another.”

 

“I can’t believe that you’d give up so easily.”

 

“What about my life do you think has been easy?” She questioned. “I’ve lived the last several years never feeling safe. Yes, I’m home, but it’s not the home I left. The people I love are all different.”

 

“Different doesn’t have to mean bad,” he replied.

 

She looked over at him and sighed. “No, I suppose it doesn’t.” They were both silent and she huddled under her cloak a bit more. “What are you fighting for?”

 

He sighed. “Life. The alternatives are...terrifying.”

 

“And if they win, do you go south with them? Do you take up arms against your sister?”

 

He frowned and looked over at her. “Your brother and Daenerys might win this war and walk away. I don’t have much faith that I’ll be as lucky. A man with one hand isn’t much of a fighter.”

 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit with the sword. You’re better than you think,” she responded.

 

“How do you know?”

 

“I’ve been watching everyone fight for nearly a week, now. I know who has skill and who doesn’t.  Bronn has never taken it easy on you, yet you’ve bested him several times now. That can’t be a coincidence.”

 

He smirked. “That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

 

She shrugged. “We’re all going to die soon. I might as well be nice.”

 

He moved closer to her and turned her to face him, his brow furrowed. “There are a lot of people between you and the army coming for us. Don’t give up hope.”

 

She looked down. “I gave up hope a long time ago,” she whispered. “Telling me not to won’t change that.”

 

“And what would restore it?  What would make you wish to live?”

 

“You think I long to die?”

 

“I think...you’re tired of the shit life you’ve had.”

 

She shook her head. “I am. I’m tired of monsters and men ruining this world. I’m tired of feeling helpless to stop any of it.”

 

“But there is always hope.”

 

“Hope is a child’s dream. Hope died when my father was beheaded and I was forced to watch. Hope died when my brother and mother were killed. It died when Ramsay Bolton raped and tortured me. Hope died for me long ago.”

 

“You have your sister and brothers. They live. You live.”

 

She shook her head, moved past him and into the keep. Instead of her room, she went to the solar and realized Jaime had followed her. When she was inside, she whirled on him and shoved him hard. “Do not lecture me about hope and faith. I had faith and your family killed it,” he hissed, the tears she had kept at bay for so long rolled down her cheeks. “I was a silly girl who prayed to the gods to curry favor with a monster of a king because I was foolish enough to believe that love could change him. Love changes nothing. All hope and love do are bring disappointment and heartbreak.”

 

He stared at her, stunned by her sudden outburst, but almost looked relieved. “You’re afraid.”

 

She rolled her eyes and put her back to him. “Of course, I’m afraid. The dead walk on this castle...”

  
“No. You’re afraid because you do have hope. You have faith in your brother, in the men to fight for you,” he moved around her and into her personal space. “The stakes are higher, the risks greater than they’ve ever been, but you still believe that this will end the way you want it to.”

 

She shook her head. “It’s foolish.”

 

He nodded. “It always has been. But what’s the alternative? Give up?”

 

“It’s easier,” she whispered.  

 

He stood up straighter than he had in days and tilted his head as he tentatively reached forward and brushed her tears away with his fingers. “Life is just disjointed horrible moments strung together with minimal moments of bliss. But it’s always worth fighting for. It’s always worth risking everything to maintain.”

 

“Some people have more horrible lives than others.”

 

He nodded. “I agree,” he dropped his hand to his side. “Some people are never given a chance to really find what it is that makes them feel relief. Some are shown those things too late and with little opportunity to do anything about it.”

 

They stood staring at one another, her breathing labored and she could see the passion in which he argued with her. It made her feel flushed and she hated the traitorous emotion. She doesn’t want to feel anything for Jaime Lannister except revulsion. She stormed past him and to the door. “Good luck with the battle,” she said as she exited the room.

 

She walked quickly down the corridor and turned towards her room. She stopped at seeing one of her maids standing in the center of the hall. Her emotions were already heightened and she didn’t feel like explaining to the girl what she was supposed to be doing and where she needed to be. It was late and most everyone else was already in their chambers, “Dyanna,” she said, to which the girl turned, her eyes glowing a bright blue and part of her jaw hung to her chest, barely held together by skin.

 

Sansa couldn’t breathe but took two steps backward and then turned to run. The creature grabbed a hold of her hair and pulled back, the gargling growing frantic as she pulled her closer.  She screamed, unable to think of anything else.  She pried her hair from the dead things fingertips and ran down the hall and into Jaime’s arms who looked down at her alarmed.

 

She couldn't form words and didn't have to as the dead thing came down the hall after her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I told you!


	22. Jaime IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime fights the dead, plans are solidified, and he finds an unexpected drinking partner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm continuously amazed by the reception for this fic. It started out as the little story that could and 22 chapters in and I look forward to every comment! You guys are amazing. Thank you so much for all of your support!

  


**JAIME**

 

He watched her leave and then leaned over the table, wondering why he bothered. He knew he should have walked away when he saw her standing on the rampart. She had made it very clear over the last few days what she thought about him, debating to kill him, insisting that his family was the cause of much of her family’s problems. He didn’t disagree with that completely. The Lannister’s had caused a great deal of pain to the Starks. But he was trying to be different. He should have tried to sleep. He should never have approached her. She was a woman without hope and there was nothing he could do to force it into her icy veins. He didn’t even know why he cared.

 

He started to leave the solar and stopped at hearing what sounded like a whimper and a raspy sound. The whole thing made him uneasy and he started down the hall and stopped in shock at hearing a scream and then at seeing Sansa running at him, tears streaming down her face, terror etched on her features. He looked up at the raspy sound and recognized the blue eyes of the dead immediately. He pushed Sansa behind him and kicked the dead woman in the chest, sending her sprawling to the floor. But the dead woman was rushing back towards them and the feeling of dread and panic inside him nearly caused him to choke. As she charged them again, he took his golden hand and hit her in the face as hard as he could, which caused her to fall backward again. 

 

He was rarely in a fight without his sword and felt lost without it. He backed up, feeling Sansa behind him. Jaime looked around the hall, knowing there was a weapon in the solar they had left, but he knew only dragonglass and fire killed these things. He stopped suddenly and reached for one of the torches on the wall and as the woman got close enough he could make out the pupils in her eyes, he lit her dress on fire and shoved her to the ground once more then made sure to set her face on fire. He wished he’d had his sword but this seemed to work. The dead thing screamed, but stopped charging and then it went limp.  

 

Jaime faced Sansa who stared at the burning dead woman. He stepped closer to her and she looked up at him, fear still hanging on her features. “Sansa?”

 

Several others rushed down the hall then. Davos and a few guards stopped at the body.

 

“What happened?” Davos asked, and stopped at seeing the burning body of the woman on the ground.

 

Jaime looked at Sansa once more, but she seemed beyond words. “She was attacked,” he answered. He looked at Davos and several of the other men. “The girl was dead. Blue eyes. The dead are closer,” he said softly.  “Search the castle, let the King and Queen know what’s happening.”

 

“And the Lady?” Davos asked, his sword in his hand.

 

“I’ll stay with her until her brother arrives,” Jaime said softly and ushered her back to the solar. “Find Lady Brienne and let her know what’s happened,” he said to one of the guards.

 

Davos nodded to the guards and they disbursed. He entered the solar and closed the door behind him then turned to find Sansa sitting in the chair in front of the fire, her hands shaking as she covered her face. He moved over to her slowly and knelt in front of her. “Sansa?” he whispered and took one of her hands. “Are you alright?”

 

“They’re real,” she hissed. “Part of me always hoped that it wasn’t true...”

 

Jaime looked down at their hands and squeezed her fingers tighter. “Are you hurt?”

 

Her blue eyes met his then and she shook her head. She reached back and touched her hair, a look of confusion and pain crossing her face. “It just...tore at my hair,” she gulped down a great breath. He continued to look at her, concern for her filling him. “How was she...she was one of my maids,” she said finally and new tears streamed down her cheeks.

 

He frowned. “I don’t know. They’re searching the castle to make sure no one else...I’ll stay with you until I know it’s safe.”

 

She wiped at her eyes, releasing his hand. She was shaking and he couldn't deny that he wanted to comfort her. He was kept from doing so as Ghost entered the room followed by Jon and one of the guards. Sansa immediately stood, threw her arms around Jon, and began sobbing. Jaime turned away from the moment between siblings and was relieved when Brienne entered the room, but she went to one knee. “My lady I have failed you.”

 

Sansa pulled away from Jon and shook her head. “You did what I told you,” she responded. “You were where you were supposed to be, I was the...one out of place. Stand, please.” Brienne did as told but still looked like she was ready to slit her own throat for failing Sansa. She hadn't failed her.

 

Jon frowned. “What happened?”

 

“I was going back to my room and Dyanna was standing there and when I said her name she turned...” Sansa answered and was holding back tears. “And her jaw...it was hanging down to her chest and her eyes were a kind of blue I've never seen before. Ser Jaime set her on fire.”

 

Jon looked over at Jaime and he could see the thankful look on his face. He turned to the guard and frowned. “Inform Queen Daenerys of what's happened. Her Hand as well. Let them know that Lady Sansa is alright,” he said as he hugged her again. The guard left and Jon sighed. “You don't walk around the castle without someone with you,” he said as he pulled away once more. She nodded and Jon sighed. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

 

Jaime watched as her chin trembled as she tried to keep her emotions in check, but she nodded. “Lady Brienne, would you please make sure Sansa gets to her room safely.” He took her hands in his and sighed. “Please stay there until we know what’s happening.”

 

Sansa nodded and cast one last look at Jaime and then she was gone. He wanted to go back to his room and get his sword. He was unsure of whether or not there were more in the castle, but Jon turned to him worry on his face. “You saved her?”

 

Jaime frowned. “I heard her scream,” he replied. He didn’t think her brother, or cousin, whatever relation they wanted to acknowledge, that he’d been having a conversation with her in a darkened room in the middle of the night. In fact, he thought his life was safer if he didn’t know. “I found the dead girl coming after Sansa and I set the dead girl on fire.”

 

“I’m glad you were there,” Jon acknowledged. 

 

The guard returned to the room holding Jon’s boots and doublet. He handed them over to Jon who looked uncomfortable with being handed the items, and it was then Jaime realized this was the same guard that Jon had sent to inform Daenerys of what had happened. However, Jaime didn’t comment on this as Jon pulled on his boots and donned his doublet. He hadn’t actually been dismissed, so he didn’t leave.  He was unsure how long they waited, but Davos entered the room again, this time with Jorah. “We found another dead one. Not one of ours. He’s currently on fire in the courtyard.”

 

“How did she turn?” Jaime asked Jon. “How do  _ they _ turn?”

 

Jon shook his head. “I know the Night King raises them. I’ve seen it. But I think his commanders, I suppose they would be called, can turn them, too.”

 

At this, Jorah spoke. “Beyond the wall, we met a White Walker and some of the dead that followed him. When Jon killed the White Walker, the rest of them practically fell apart.”

 

Jaime thought on this. “So, we kill them and the army dies?”

 

“We kill the Night King, the army dies,” Beric said as he entered. 

 

They all looked over at the man with one eye who surveyed all of them. Jon shook his head. “That’s an assumption, at this point.”

 

Jaime frowned. “But we do know that if you kill one of the White Walkers that others die when they do?”

 

Jon nodded. “Yes.”

 

“So, on the field, we should go after them,” Jaime said, pragmatically.

 

“I’m not sure how close we’d get unless they decided to enter the fight.”

 

“What about the dragons? They breathe fire, shouldn’t that kill this Night King and his warriors?” Davos asked.

 

“I saw the Night King step through the flames,” Jon explained, “and threw a spear and killed Viscerion. I don’t think fire affects him the same as it does them.”

 

The room was quiet for a moment and then Davos spoke. “Maybe we should be consulting your brother.” He looked to Jon and frowned. “Seems he might be able to give us a bit more information.”

 

Jaime frowned. “Why would he be able to do that?”

 

Jon sighed. “Bran is a greenseer. He’s the one who told us about the Wall coming down.”

 

“And is there anyone protecting him?” Jaime asked.

 

Jaime thought that he looked stunned as he hadn’t thought of that. Jon suddenly raced down the hall, the other men following behind him. He entered Bran’s room to find him seated on the edge of his bed, staring into the flames. He could see Jon nearly sag in relief. The affection he felt for his family reminded Jaime of all he had lost. Not only had he lost his sister because of her actions, but he’d essentially lost Tyrion, for it was still difficult to look at him without thinking about his father. He still worried about them, despite how he felt betrayed by them both.

 

He watched as Jon moved into the room and Bran looked at the rest of the group, his eyes locking onto Jaime. There was no anger or hatred in the look. In fact, Bran didn’t seem to have any sort of emotion, and that was almost worse, in Jaime’s opinion.

 

“I need you to tell me what happened tonight,” Jon said and looked at Jaime and nodded to the door.

 

Jorah, Berric, and Davos stood nearby and Jaime leaned against the door, his arms folded as he listened. “Dyanna was visiting the stable boy and she was killed by the dead one that Davos killed.”

 

“How did it get over the walls?” Berric asked.

 

Bran looked to his brother and frowned. “There’s a section of eastern rampart that didn’t have a guard on it. He had gone to the privy. It climbed over that section and caught her going back into the castle. She never even had time to scream,” he said as he looked back to the fire. “The magic of the Night King seems to be growing stronger. They’ll be here soon.”

 

“How soon?” Jaime asked.

 

“Sooner than I originally thought. They don’t sleep, they don’t eat, they walk. The Night King swirls over them on the dragon and they’re taking whatever men, women, and children they find along the way. Their numbers are growing.”

 

Jon frowned. “How many, Bran?”

 

“More than we have,” he answered.

 

“We need more men,” Davos asserted.

 

Bran shook his head. “You won’t get it. There isn’t anyone. Theon hasn’t caught up to Euron, yet. But he has a plan.”

 

Jaime shook his head. “Let’s get back to the army marching on this keep and not a suicide mission on the seas. How long until they’re here?”

 

“Nightfall. A great storm comes with them. The Long Night comes with them.”

 

Davos sighed. “What about this Night King? What can you tell us about him?”

 

Bran looked down for a moment and then back at Jon. “He’s able to block my vision, send me in my warg form away from him. I lose control.”

 

“Can fire kill him?” Jorah asked.

 

Bran shook his head and turned back to the fire. “I don’t know.” 

 

“What about the White Walkers?”

 

“Valyrian steel and dragon glass are effective. I’ve never seen them pass through the fire, though.”

 

“And if they fall, the army falls?” Jon asked.

 

Bran looked back at his brother and shook his head. “I don’t know. That seems to be what happened when you went beyond the wall.”

 

Jon frowned. “Is there anything else you can tell us that will help us with the fight?”

 

He shook his head. “Get the pitch and line the trenches. Fire will keep them away from the keep, so long as it doesn’t go out.”

 

Jaime didn’t feel any better about the upcoming fight. In fact, he felt more hopeless the more Bran spoke. Jon folded his arms over his chest and looked at his brother. “I want you to stay inside the keep during the fighting.”

 

“I’ll be more helpful to you the Godswood.”

 

Jon looked at everyone else in the room. “Would you all give me a moment with my brother?”

 

Jaime opened the door and led the way out of the room. The other men stood in the corridor and looked at one another. “We’re fucked,” Davos said dispassionately.

 

“Seems that way,” Jaime agreed.

 

Jorah and Berric remained silent. “One hundred thousand. At least,” Jorah finally said. “That’s what the Queen said.”

 

“We have half that,” Davos reminded.

 

Jorah frowned. “They don’t fight with skill, though. They’re mindless, attacking anything living. Maybe that plays to our advantage.”

 

“How’s that?” Davos asked.

 

“With the Dothraki on their horses, archers on the wall, the queen on her dragon, the Unsullied at the front of the pack...maybe we can take enough of them out before we suffer any huge losses.”

 

“We’ll have to burn the bodies,” Jaime said. “If they can only be killed by fire...”

 

“So, for every man and woman we have on the field, we need someone there to light them?” Jorah questioned.

 

“Or, we learn to fight smarter,” Davos said, though he looked to Jaime like he had a plan.

  
“In a day? I’m sorry, less than a day,” Jaime said, sarcasm lacing his tone.

 

“The fighters who use only one hand to swing their sword should have a torch in the other,” Davos said as the door opened and Jon exited from Bran’s room. 

 

“We need to meet in the hall. With Daenerys and Tyrion included,” Jon said to Jorah. The older man nodded, obviously understanding that he was the one that needed to talk to the Queen and her Hand, walked down the hall and Jon sighed. 

 

“Anything helpful?” Davos questioned.

 

Jon shook his head. “No.”

 

Jaime looked at Davos. “Then it appears you were correct. We’re fucked.”

 

Jon shook his head, exasperated with the conversation. “Will people please stop saying that,” he mumbled as he marched down the corridor to the great hall. Jaime decided to stop by his room and grab his sword. He wouldn’t walk around without it any longer. He tied the belt to his waist, trying to forget the look of terror on Sansa’s face when she’d run to him. If he’d had any chance of getting through to her to tell her not to lose hope, he felt it was gone, now.

 

He walked down to the hall and joined the others. Tormund was now with the group. Jon was leaning on the table looking at the map. “How many keeps between here and Eastwatch?” 

 

“Two,” he said softly. “No idea how many homesteads,” Jon said honestly.

 

_ We’re not ready to fight this _ , Jaime thought to himself and frowned. They all looked up when Daenerys, Tyrion, and Jorah entered the room. Jaime watched as her eyes immediately went to Jon. “Ser Jorah told me what happened. Your sister?”

 

“Brienne’s keeping guard.”

 

Daenerys nodded and she heaved a sigh. “Alright. So, they’re closer than we thought.”

 

He nodded. “They’ll be here by nightfall. And there’s a storm coming with them.”

 

Tyrion looked uneasy and he spoke. “Would it not be a better idea to abandon Winterfell and take everyone to Dragonstone?” Jaime thought Jon might strangle him and so Tyrion raised his hands in defense. “Looking at all possibilities.”

 

“We’re not abandoning Winterfell,” Daenerys said. “It’s the center of the North. All the Northron houses look to it and the Starks to lead them. This is their home, and we  _ will _ help defend it,” she said definitively.

 

“So, what is our plan? Do we stay with what we originally decided?” Jaime asked.

 

“I need to be on the ground. We need to eliminate the giants, get Viscerion out of the air, and go after the White Walkers,” Jon said, though he seemed less sure. How could he not be doubting the plan at this point? They were outnumbered and though they had a plan, a decent one which would win a number of other battles, this didn’t seem like it was enough.

 

“And the Night King?” Jaime asked. “Once the dragon is on the ground...then we fight him and whatever magic he has? Do we even know if we can kill him?”

 

“What’s our other option?” Jon questioned. “There is nowhere to run. We make our stand here, and if we can’t defeat him then...”

 

Tormund stepped forward. “I say we give this Night King fucker the fight he wants.” Everyone was looking at him. “If we’re going to fight, let’s use everything we have. What are we saving it for? A possible march south?” Everyone was silent and allowed him to continue, “Not if we don’t win this one. So, let’s fucking end it. Everything we have. The dragons, the horse lords, the cockless army...all of them.”

 

Jon looked over at Daenerys. “I’ll ride Rhaegal. If they get beyond the first fire, I’ll join the fighting on the ground then. We’ll also need everyone who can to fight with a torch. Burn bodies after you’ve taken them down, and our fellow fighters if they fall. We can’t have him raising them to fight against us.”

 

Daenery nodded. “We’ll need to take down Viscerion as soon as we can. We can’t let him cut through us, either.”

 

It grew quiet in the room. Everyone contemplating that everything would change in a few hours. The chance of everyone in the room surviving was small, and it seemed to be settling over them all. “I’m going to have a drink. Anyone like to join me?” Tormund asked as he looked around the room.

 

Jaime nodded. “I’ll join you,” he said as he followed the Wildling out of the room when no one else decided to join them. 

 

*~*

 

He coughed as the drink Tormund had given him burned down his throat. “What is this?”

 

“Don’t like it?” he asked, a smirk nearly hidden beneath his red beard.

 

“Stronger than I’m used to,” he replied.

 

He shrugged. “The Freefolk don’t have all your fancy wines. Whatever we do, there’s a purpose behind it.”

 

Silence filled the room and Jaime looked at the ginger in front of him. He’d never met a Wildling before Tormund. He thought they would be uncouth savages, and Tormund probably fit that description to some extent, but he also knew from hearing others talk that he was a fighter you wanted on your side. He’d also faced off against the dead army more than once. “You’ve fought the dead.”

 

“A few times now.”

 

Jaime leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Is it as everyone says? Are we fucked?”

 

Tormund drank down what was in his cup and nodded. “Probably. And not in the way I like. It’s a shame I never got to have her.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Brienne of Tarth.”

 

Jaime nearly choked again as he looked at the other man. “Brienne? You want Brienne?”

 

“Since the moment I laid eyes on her.” He smiled. “She wants me, too. She’s just...not ready to admit it.”

 

Jaime shook his head. “What gives you that idea?”

 

“I’ve seen how she looks at me.”

 

“She looks at everyone like that,” Jaime answered. He thought of Brienne as his friend and didn’t know how happy she would be knowing they’d been discussing her in this manner. 

 

“I like her fight. Her strength. Her beauty.”

 

Jaime had only ever heard anyone describe Brienne as a beauty as an insult. But he could see the other man was sincere. But then, he was a Wildling and the seemed to have different standards of living, maybe that included beauty, too. She was an amazing fighter, a good friend, loyal to a fault, but he’d never been attracted to her. Cersei was always his ideal, but even now, thinking of his sister, his stomach churned. The Lannister forces might not have made much of a difference against what was coming for them, but more men would have been a comfort. 

 

“I hear you’re the brother of the queen down south.”

 

Jaime didn’t know where he was going with this, but he let him continue. “Yes.”

 

“Why are you here? Didn’t your sister betray them?”

 

“Yes, she did. Me as well.” He heaved a sigh. “And I’m here because I made a promise to help in this fight. I intend to keep my promise.”

 

Tormund frowned. “You fucked your sister?”

 

Jaime downed the rest of his drink and winced. “Do we really have to talk about this?”

 

“Fucking world’s ending. What does it matter?”

 

“I don’t know you.”

 

“I don’t know you either, but I’m interested in a man who would fuck his sister.”

 

Jaime frowned. “She’s my sister, yes. But...I never thought of her as my sister, really.”

 

Tormund tilted his head. “I fucked bear. I'm not going to judge you for fucking your sister.”

 

Jaime scoffed. “How did you fuck a bear?”

 

Tormund looked him in the eye. “Gently.”

 

Jaime started laughing as did Tormund. He wasn’t certain that Tormund was telling the truth, but the man was funny. “So, you want Brienne?”

 

“More than I want the sun to rise,” he admitted. 

 

“And you don’t mind that she’s...bigger than you? Stronger?”

 

Tormund shook his head. “No. I like that. Her strength is what makes her beautiful. I know she could gut me like a pig and I fucking love it,” he said as he poured more of the foul tasting liquid into his cup. “All women in the south, it seems, are weak, wilting flowers. Not my lady.”

 

Jaime leaned back in his seat again, feeling the drink move through his system and give him a familiar feeling of warmth. “Arya Stark would take offense.”

 

“That girl is more wolf than girl. The Dragon Queen is fearsome to behold for a woman so short. And then Lady Sansa has ice in her veins. Those women are rare creatures. None as rare as Brienne of Tarth.” He then looked at Jaime. “Where is Tarth?”

 

“South of King’s Landing. It’s part of the Stormlands. They call it the Sapphire Isle.”

 

“Why do they call it that?”

 

Jaime frowned. “The water around it is blue like sapphires. I’ve only seen it from a distance, though.” 

 

Tormund sighed. “I don’t want to go further south than Winterfell, but I’d go for her,” he admitted.

 

“Does she know you’re attracted to her?”

 

He nodded. “Yes. I can’t make it more obvious.”

 

“She’s a good woman, a fierce fighter, and a loyal person. She hated me when we first met and now we’re friends, I think.”

 

“You don’t seem to have a lot of those. Why?”

 

“My family and I have caused a great number of people a lot of heartaches.”

 

Tormund sighed. “Probably for the best then. Too many friends and worry about too many people dying. And then they worry about you dying. The fewer people you care for, the less worry.”

 

“I care about what happens to people,” he said softly. He looked down at his drink and then looked up to see Tormund staring at him. “What?”

 

“You’re a fucking horrible drinking partner. You’re just sad. If I give you this cask, will you leave?” 

 

Jaime laughed. “I suppose I am sad. You can keep the drink, though. I’ve had enough,” he said as he stood and then turned to Tormund. “I wish you good fortune in the war to come.”

 

Tormund held up his drink in salute and then Jaime left. He needed sleep and something to distract him from the impending doom that seemed to be settling over the keep. He’d told Bronn he wanted to die in the arms of the woman he loved. Now that wasn’t a possibility. Cersei would see him dead. He wasn’t completely sure that he still loved her like that. Instead, he felt a burning resentment settle in his stomach when he thought of her. She was so short-sighted and petty. All she could see was her throne and didn’t understand that the throne mattered little if they didn’t win this fight.

  
At this point, though, Jaime wasn’t sure that was a possibility. But as he told Sansa,  _ life _ was worth fighting for.


	23. Daenerys IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loss of hope and dragon riding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy early Tuesday morning.

**DAENERYS**

 

As the other men left the room, she was alone with Jon, Tyrion, and Davos. If everything was to go according to plan, and they won this war, and then the one that would eventually be brought to Cersei, Davos, and Tyrion would have to work together as their Hands. She wouldn’t give Tyrion up and she knew Jon wouldn’t allow Davos to go, either. It was a compromise she was willing to make.

 

Daenerys sighed as she looked at the table. “It’s a good plan,” she said, looking at all the pieces. “We simply have to stick with it.”

 

Jon frowned. “I feel like I’ve let everyone down.”

 

Tyrion spoke before Daenerys could. “How so?”

 

“We probably should have left the keep days ago, evacuated everyone.”

 

Davos and Tyrion were both silent and she turned to look at them. “Would you give us a moment?”

 

Davos and Tyrion left the room, Tyrion closing the door behind him as he went. She put a soothing hand on his arm and he turned his dark eyes to hers and his frown deepened. “Have we condemned everyone to death?” he questioned.

 

She frowned then and shook her head. “We can still survive this. We can win this war.”

 

“How?” he asked. “I know I told you that we would face it together, and that’s my plan. But how do we win this? Our men will grow tired over time. The dead won’t. They’ll keep coming until...” she realized he couldn’t allow himself to finish the sentence. “I’ve tried to believe that we can win this, but after tonight and speaking with Bran, I don’t know that we can.”

 

She knew he needed her to be the one to reinforce his faith. Even if she didn’t believe it herself, she needed him to have faith. “Jon, I don’t really have faith in Gods or men, even. Both have let me down in the past. But you haven’t. Not since I met you. You’ve been the stubborn King in the North.” She moved to stand between him and the table. “And say what you want about all of this, I don’t believe you were brought back in order to die here. I haven’t walked through the fire, endured everything I did, to die here.” She reached up and cupped his cheek with her hand and he leaned his forehead against hers. “You and I will face this together, united. I can’t believe that we were on opposite sides of the world to meet now and let this be our end,” she whispered.

 

He closed his eyes and she only wanted to soothe him as she could see the pain he was going through. “I want to believe that...”

 

She stroked her thumb over his cheek and when his eyes opened, she could see the pain behind them. “Then believe it. We have to,” she said firmly. “I promised you, gave you my word, that we would defeat the Night King and his army. I keep my promises.”

 

He sighed. “I try to keep mine.”

 

She smiled. “I know. Your honor has never been in question.” She dropped her hand down to rest over his heart. “We will win this, Jon. We will win, our _people_ will win.”

 

He was silent as he stared at her. He cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips against hers. She was relieved to feel his kiss. She hugged him to her when he broke the kiss. “Alright, I put my faith in you. Not in gods, not in a man. In you, Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

She nodded. “Good. Because my faith is in you,” she said softly. “In us, together.”

 

“We need to call everyone together in the morning. Our commanders, the lords, soldiers...”

 

She stepped away from the table and took his hand. “I think we should allow our Hands back into the room.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “Do you think they’re still out there?”

 

She nodded. “Too much has happened for Tyrion to allow me to be distracted. Let’s give him something to occupy his mind.”

 

“And what will we do?”

 

She sighed. “You’ll fly Rhaegal, practice controlling him. I’ll be beside you on Drogon.”

 

“You won’t be with me?”

 

She shook her head. “I won’t be during the battle. You need to fly.”

 

He nodded. “So, we allow Tyrion and Davos to call everyone while we ride off on your dragons?”

 

“They’re our Hands. That’s the sort of thing they’re supposed to do.”

 

Jon dropped her hand and walked to the door and she could tell by the look on his face that she had been right and they were both standing outside the door. “Come in,” he said and moved out of the doorway and over to Daenerys.

 

“Call the Lords, the leaders of our armies and have them in this room by daybreak. They need to be informed of how soon this is coming.”

 

Davos nodded and looked to Tyrion. “And what will do?”

 

“Jon’s going to fly Rhaegal. He needs to be more comfortable on the dragon,” she said. “We leave the gathering for the meeting in your capable hands,” she said as she led the way to the door.

 

“Your grace,” Tyrion interrupted them leaving. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for the two of you to go off considering all that’s happened tonight.”

 

Jon looked at her then Tyrion, a frown on his face. “I understand your concern...”

 

“Do you?” Tyrion asked. “Your sister was attacked. They found a dead thing in the courtyard. Your brother says that they’re less than a day away. If the two of you go out there, and there are others, and we lost you...”

 

Daenerys sighed. “Tyrion...”

 

“If we lost you, the Dothraki will not respond to anyone else. The Unsullied are aligned to you. No one else.” He looked at the ground. “Let Jon go without you.”

 

Davos frowned. “So, it’s alright with you to possibly lose Jon? What do you think his men will do? They’ll leave Winterfell. There’s no allegiance to her. They’re _aligned_ to the King in the North. They fight for him. Why is her life greater than his?”

 

“The last I checked, she had the numbers, she had the dragons. She has come here, put off the war in the south, in order to protect the people of the North. That’s why.”

 

Daenerys stepped forward, her hands clasped in front of her. “You’re both loyal to us. We chose you as our Hands for a reason, because you have our best interests at heart. But this is not up for debate. Neither Jon nor I am more important than the other. If you two can’t agree on that, then keep it to yourselves. Jon has to have more experience on Rhaegal. There has to be a bond of trust there. There also needs to be one between the four of us.”

 

She paused for a moment and tried to reign in her temper. “You want us to rule, you want us to sit on the throne, then you have to understand that this is important. I trust Jon. I trust you, Tyrion. And Davos, I know Jon would not trust a man unworthy. His faith in you gives me faith.” She watched as the older man lowered his head and then looked to Tyrion. “Please, trust us. Summon everyone and we’ll be back at sunrise.”

 

She could tell Tyrion still wanted to protest, however, he refrained. Daenerys turned back to Jon and took his arm as he escorted her out of the keep and into the night. They approached Rhaegal and suddenly the dragon turned to them and heard a growl from him. Behind them, Ghost followed and the great wolf bared its teeth to  Rhaegal and Daenerys stood between them. “No,” she said to Rhaegal, smoothing her hand over his snout. “No,” she comforted the dragon and Jon actually looked nervous. He moved over to Ghost and patted his fur. She couldn’t hear what he whispered, but Ghost relaxed which then caused Rhaegal to relax. Jon leaned his head against the great wolf and she could see him sigh in relief.

 

“We need to go,” she said and Jon nodded, giving one last scratch behind the ears to Ghost before he stepped to the green dragon that allowed him on his back. The great wolf sat down and watched as Daenerys moved over to the now awake Drogon and climbed on his back as well. “You go up first. Remember, it’s _Valhd_.”

 

Jon frowned. “You couldn’t teach them the common tongue?”

 

She shook her head. “They’re not common, so no.”

  
“ _Valhd_ ,” he said to the dragon and Rhaegal took a few steps across the ground and flew into the air and Daenerys followed behind them on Drogon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya is next.


	24. Arya IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya learns about the attack on Sansa and has an interesting conversation with her sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that summary sucked...but here you go! New chapter as promised.

**ARYA**

 

There was a pounding on the door and Arya opened her eyes and looked around, confused for a moment until she felt Gendry move from behind her. She sat up and watch him walk to the door sliding one leg, then the other into his leathers and quickly do the laces until he was decent. To be honest, she preferred him to be indecent, gloriously naked and between her thighs in a multitude of ways. Even now, she watched as the muscles of his back moved with the firelight dancing over his skin. The pounding continued and Arya slipped beneath the furs and listened as Gendry opened the door. “Ser Davos?”

 

She heard him step into the room and the door closed and she peaked her head from beneath the furs as the older man stared at the bed. “Your sister was attacked tonight,” he said, to which Arya sat up, making sure she was still fully covered.

 

“Attacked by who?” She could feel her blood boiling. Did someone dare put a hand on Sansa? They were dead. That’s all she could think of. If they hadn’t already been killed, she would slit their throat and watch the life leave their eyes.

 

“The dead,” Davos said, and his grave voice caused a short burst of panic to course through her veins, but then it was replaced with true concern for her sister.

 

“They’re here?” Gendry asked. His voice brought her eyes over to his and she could see the concern and how his body seemed to tense. If she wasn’t so concerned with her sister, she would have admired how the muscles in his arms and chest tightened. But there were more important things to tend to at the moment.

 

“One. It killed your sister’s handmaid, and she’s the one that attacked Sansa.”

 

“Is Sansa alright?” Arya asked softly. She may not agree with everything Sansa did, but after what happened with Lord Baelish, she thought they were closer than ever. She had even told her sister, after all, that she loved a boy. She would never have told someone like Jon. That was something strictly between sisters.

 

He nodded. “Jaime Lannister saved her. Lady Brienne is with her now.”

 

Arya nodded. “Thank you, Ser Davos.”

 

“Your presence is required in the hall at daybreak. The dead will be here sooner than we thought.”

 

Her eyes met Gendry’s as Davos turned to the door and left them. Arya moved from the bed quickly and began putting her clothes on and shook her head. “I’m going to check on my sister.”

 

Gendry slid his tunic over his head and then donned the doublet that had been sent up to him. “I’ll go with you.”

 

“Why?” she asked as she pulled her leathers up over her hips. “I can protect myself.”

 

“You can. But I have no intention of leaving your side,” he said as he attached the last clasp.

 

She sighed and stepped to him. She put her hands on his chest and leaned up to kiss him. “Fine.”

 

Arya tied her sword belt around her waist and slid the knife into its sheath. They finished getting dressed in silence. She felt an unfamiliar ache in her body and knew that it was from their hours together in Gendry’s bed. It was different than the hours she spent training for a fight. After those bouts, she never wanted to move again, but find the coldest water she could and soak her bones. This feeling was completely different. It started between her legs and then spread outward. Her thighs ached and whether it was because of how vigorously she had fucked Gendry when she’d been on top of him or how he had all but pinned her legs open to the bed to make her come on his tongue, she was unsure. The thought of both, though caused a half smile to form on her face. “Ready?” he asked and she turned to look at her strong bull and wished she could be in the bed with him, doing numbers of wicked things to him. Things that would surely make maids blush.

 

But now her mind was focused on her family and the fight to come. Gendry beside the door watching her, his hammer in his hand. There was a question in his gaze and she didn’t know what it was and thought to ask before they left.

 

“What is it?” She asked, her brows knit together.

 

“You love me, right?” It didn’t seem like a question, but an affirmation of what he already knew. She took it as one, though and gave him an answer.

 

She tilted her head. “Yes. Why?”

 

“I don’t know when we’ll actually be able to speak to one another alone, again. I simply needed the peace of mind that you loved me.”

 

She shook her head. “You’re so stupid,” she said with a laugh.

 

“You know, you can’t keep calling stupid.”

 

“I can if you say stupid things,” she said as she leaned up and kissed him. “I love you. You love me. Nothing else needs to be said.”

 

“You think you’re just going to push me around for the rest of our lives?”

 

She shook her head. “No. I don’t want to be the person in charge of us. I want us to be equals. Mostly,” she said with a smile. “I want to win most of the time.”

 

He snorted. “I know that much about you.” He cupped her face with his free hand and kissed her. “I’ll let you win. Most of the time.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Let me win?”

 

“Yeah,” he smirked. “I’ll let you win.” She punched him in the stomach lightly and he gasped. “You’re so damn violent.”

 

It was Arya’s turn to smirk. “Yes, I am. And you’re stuck with me,” she said and kissed him briefly before she tugged the door open and they both moved down the hall quickly. They came to Sansa’s room and found Brienne and Podrick standing outside the door, two sentinels standing guard.

 

She nodded to Brienne and knocked on the door. “Brienne! I’m fine!” Sansa called from inside, and Arya opened the door and poked her head in. She found Sansa sitting in front of the hearth and the older girl sighed. Arya stepped all the way inside and turned to Gendry. “Keep Pod and Brienne company,” she said as she closed the door behind her and moved over to Sansa who stood and embraced her younger sister.

 

Arya stepped back from her. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

She sighed. “If we were playing the game of faces, you’d be dead. Don’t lie to me.”

 

Sansa took a deep, steadying breath and frowned. “I’m not fine. I’m terrified. All I can see is her charging at me. When I close my eyes...” Arya thought she did a remarkable job of not crying, though she did seem on the verge. “I see her face ripped apart and those blue eyes as she ran after me. And then Jaime kicked her to the ground and set her on fire...”

 

“Why weren’t you with Brienne?”

 

Sansa frowned. “I had sent her to bed and I couldn’t sleep. I went out to the rampart to get some air and to think. I never thought,” she started breathing harder and faster.

 

Arya sat Sansa back in her seat when it looked like she couldn’t breathe. “Deep breath,” Arya said calmly but held onto Sansa’s hands. “She’s gone and can’t hurt you.”

 

“No, but their army is marching on our home. We don’t have the numbers to defeat them.”

 

“We have skilled fighters, Sansa. Jon, Daenerys, dragons...we have a better chance than you think.”

 

“You haven’t seen them, Arya. You haven’t seen how nothing affects them. They keep coming. My family is going to be fighting in this war, and there is a possibility that I lose all of you after I finally got you back.”

 

Arya pulled the other chair closer to her and sat in it. “I’m hard to kill. Jon’s already died once. And Bran...I don’t know how to explain Bran. We’ve all survived horrors. We can survive more. We will.”

 

“How are you so certain?”

 

Arya sighed. “I have faith in us. Every obstacle that could be put in our way has been demolished. Distance, betrayal, evil men and their wicked schemes. We’ve fought it all and conquered. Have faith.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I wish people would stop telling to have faith.”

 

She assumed it was Jon. “I’m sure Jon meant well.”

 

She shook her head. She whispered, “It wasn’t Jon.”

 

Arya furrowed her brow and noticed small spots of pink appearing on Sansa’s face. “Who then?”

 

“No one.”

 

“Dead again,” Arya responded and Sansa’s jaw clenched. “The truth.”

 

“Jaime.”

 

“Well, he did save your life...”

 

“This was before that,” she said softly.

 

“When?”

 

“Tonight.”

 

Arya tilted her head as she watched Sansa. “What were you doing with Jaime Lannister?”

 

“Arguing,” she said softly. “Mostly. He did save my life, but that’s because I knew where he was and I ran back to him.”

 

She watched Sansa as the other girl looked down at her hands. “What is your relationship with Jaime?”

 

“There is no relationship,” she insisted and then stood to pace the room. “I don’t like him.”

 

Arya was silent and sat back in her chair and watched her sister. “Yes, you do.” To say she was stunned was an understatement. “Let’s forget for a moment that he saved your life. There’s more to this than your dislike for him. He’s done a lot of bad things...”

  
“I know that,” she said quickly. “I’m the one that wanted him dead...”

 

She frowned. “So, what’s happening? Is it attraction?”

 

“I don’t...know,” she said softly. “I want to hate him. I should hate him.”

 

Arya sighed. “Probably. But if you don’t...that’s alright, too.”

 

“How?” Sansa questioned angrily. “How is alright? He pushed Bran out of a window. He hurt our family, Arya. His family has wreaked havoc on ours. Why do I feel so conflicted?”

 

She frowned and stared at Sansa, then shook her head. “I don’t know. Emotions aren’t really something I know how to deal with all that well.”

 

“You love Gendry.”

 

Arya furrowed her brow. “Yes, I do. But it started with respect. And sort of necessity.” At Sansa’s questioning look, she decided that now as a good time to be honest with her. She could see the confusion on Sansa’s face, and whether it was surrounding her feelings for Jaime Lannister or how it was that Arya came to love Gendry, she wasn’t sure.  “When I left King’s Landing, I needed someone to protect me. I was too ready to jump into fights that I wouldn’t have won. Gendry stepped up for me.” She frowned. “But, there’s a history between us. Just three days ago, you were trying to get Jon to kill Jaime. Maybe what you’re feeling now is gratitude because he saved your life.” A thought struck Arya and she looked at her sister. “Unless you were already conflicted before this happened.”

 

Sansa shook her head and she lowered her head to turn away from Arya. “I don’t know what I feel. Everyone that I’ve put my trust in, with the exception of my family and Tyrion, has disappointed or hurt me.”

 

“Sansa, I’m not going to tell you what to do or how to feel about someone. I will say that you’ve endured a lot of things in the time since we left all those years ago. Things that you haven’t told anyone. And you don’t have to tell me. I’m not asking for that.” She tilted her head as she watched her sister. “You said your faith died. Maybe this is your way of trying to get some of it back.”

 

She sat beside Arya and sighed. “If it’s not nightmares about Joffrey and the things he did to Father or me, it’s nightmares about Ramsay and his knives. His whips,” she said, her voice cracking at the last word. Arya thought that Ramsay should be glad he was dead as she was much more sadistic than Sansa and would have removed every body part from his body at the joint. Slowly.

 

“Jaime’s only argued with you. Has he been disrespectful to you?” Sansa shook her head. “The dead are coming sooner than we thought. It might all be taken out of our hands. But if not, and if you are still conflicted after, then perhaps that’s a good thing. You and I have both acknowledged that I’m not great with emotions or relationships with other people. I have a difficult time trusting anyone. Put in your position, I don’t know that I would ever trust anyone again. But don’t close yourself off to possibilities.” Sansa gave her a skeptical look and Arya smiled, surprised that she was arguing in favor of hope.

 

“I’m not saying Jaime Lannister is the one for you, because, frankly, I think he’s...my feelings for the Lannisters aren’t exactly secret. But if you could feel something for him, then maybe you could eventually feel something for someone else.” Arya paused and looked at her sister who seemed forlorn. “Between the two of us, you were always the one who believed in the fairy tales. Knights and ladies and love. I thought it was bullshit. Septa Mordane hated my opinions on all of it. But you had hope that it was all true. I can’t fathom that you have given up on that completely.”

 

Sansa leaned back in her chair and frowned. “I thought I had. But then, Brienne took me to Jon. We took back Winterfell. Bran came home. You came home. Jon came back to Winterfell with an army and dragons and I had hope that this could actually...” she put her head in her hands and then looked up at her and Arya felt terrible for her sister. “It was easier when I thought all I had to live for was revenge against those who had wronged us.”

 

Arya understood that sentiment rather well. “It’s strange that when you think you are able to control how you feel and react to things...that’s the exact moment that the world decides to prove you wrong. You may or may not be attracted to Jaime Lannister. At this point, that doesn’t even really matter. You feel something. That’s the important part.”

 

“It’s easier not to feel. No one can disappoint you if you don’t let them close enough.”

 

Arya held up her hands, letting her know that she understood. “I’m not going to argue that. It is easier. I spent a long time trying to suppress how I felt because it’s dangerous to care. I understand, probably better than anyone how having hope is a dangerous prospect.”

 

“So, how do I keep from feeling it?”

 

She shook her head and looked at her hands. “I said I tried to suppress it. I didn’t say I was successful.”

 

“You believe we’ll win this war?”

 

“Yes,” Arya responded.

 

Sansa shook her head. “How?”

 

Arya shrugged. “I don’t know. I just don’t have doubt. I trust Jon. Strangely enough, I trust Daenerys. I can’t imagine that Jon came back from the dead simply to die in this war.”

 

Sansa frowned. “That’s usually when things turn bleakest.”

 

Arya smirked. “Usually. But, as I said, I trust Jon. I always have.”

 

They both grew quiet and Sansa looked at Arya. “That’s a nice bruise on your neck.”

 

Arya made a face at her sister. “Is it worse than when you last saw me?”

 

She could see Sansa was trying not to smile. “Yes. I’m glad you’re happy.”

 

“You will be, too, one day. Preferably not with Jaime Lannister, if you can avoid it.”

 

Sansa frowned. “I’ll try.”

 

Arya chuckled. “Of all the conversations I ever pictured us having if we ever saw one another again, this never would have entered my mind.”

 

“Nor mine,” she said softly. “But, I’m glad I have you back and that...we’ve managed to become closer than I ever thought possible.”

 

Arya smiled and nodded. “Me too.” She undid the belt at her waist and slid the knife off of it and handed it and its sheath to Sansa. “Take this.”

 

“Bran gave it to you.”

 

“And now I’m giving it to you. It would give me peace of mind if you had a weapon. Why not this knife?” Sansa took it from her and held it in her lap. Arya re-tied her belt and smiled at her. “Stick them with the pointy end.”

 

“Funny,” Sansa said, though there was no mirth to her voice.

 

She shook her head. “When Jon gave me Needle, that’s what he told me. It’s good advice.”

 

Sansa chuckled. “I suppose it is. You’ll see me before you go into battle?”

 

“Of course. I have to reassure you that we’ll all be fine.”

 

“Are you telling me that to make me feel better or do you actually believe it?”

 

Arya stood and hugged Sansa again. “A little of both,” she whispered. “Sleep.”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“Find Jaime Lannister and threaten him,” she said and Sansa narrowed her eyes at Arya. “I was joking.”

 

“It’s not funny,” she said. “Are you going to mercilessly tease me about this now?”

 

Arya smirked. “Of course. But only behind closed doors. You’ll continue to tease me about Gendry. Let me have this,” she said, giving Sansa’s hand one last squeeze before she turned to the door. “Sleep. And remember...the pointy end.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes as Arya opened the door and left the room. She found Gendry leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the corridor, but Brienne and Podrick still standing on either side of the door.

 

“How is your sister?” Brienne asked.

 

“She’s...as you could expect,” she answered. “There’s a meeting at daybreak. Make sure Sansa is there.”

 

“Yes, my lady.” Arya frowned but Gendry smirked at her. She and Gendry started down the hall, but Brienne stopped them. “Arya.” She turned and looked at the larger woman. “Does she feel that I failed her?”

 

Arya shook her head. “No. You didn’t. You were where she told you to be. She holds no ill feelings towards you. Don’t hold this against yourself. She’ll be angry if she finds out you’re holding onto guilt for something you shouldn’t feel guilty for.”

 

Brienne nodded but still lowered her head. Arya knew it would take time before she would stop feeling responsible for this. Sansa would have to be the one to eventually ease her mind. The revelation about Jaime was a bit much. “Let me ask you something,” she said to Gendry.

 

“Anything,” he said in response.

 

“Would you be able to forgive the Lannisters for the things they’d done to my family if you were Sansa or I?”

 

He huffed out a breath. “Which Lannisters?”

 

“Jaime? Tyrion?”

 

He frowned. “Tyrion, maybe. Jaime...I don’t know. Cersei, I feel, is the root of evil in that family. How long did Jaime stay at her side and protect her?”

 

“Longer than he should have. He also tried to kill Bran when he was boy.”

 

“I don’t know how any of you have let him walk through the keep. I never met my father, but I want them to suffer for what they did to him.”

 

She stopped and he turned to look at her. “War makes strange allies.”

 

“True. But this is more than war. I mean, if we lose...”

 

“We won’t.”

 

Gendry smiled. “If we were to lose it would be the end of life as we know it.”

 

“Seems to me that’s always the case.” He looked down the corridor. He put his free hand on her hip and pressed a kiss to her lips. “What was that for?”

 

“As I said, end of life as we know it. I want to do that as much as I can before we go into battle.”

 

She smiled. “I’ll let you.”

 

He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. “I’m actually hungry.”

 

“Let’s go see if they’ve started cooking,” she said as she tugged him by the hand behind her.

  



	25. Gendry IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya in the forge...then the meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check off one of my favorite Gendry/Arya tropes in this chapter! :) ENJOY!

**GENDRY**

 

The cooks had only started kneading the bread when they entered, each of them bowing to Arya, though she seemed not to notice. Instead, she looked around to see if there was anything around to eat and found dried meat and a rare apple. She took both then bit into the apple and handed it to him as they walked down the hall. He caught her by the wrist and held her hand up to his mouth as he took a bite of the fruit.  She stared up at him and the heat in her dark eyes stretched through him and caused his cock to press against the front of his leathers.

 

He trailed his tongue down along her hand where the juice from the apple dropped and she looked fierce in that moment. She pulled away from him quickly and instead of going into the hall, she turned to walk outside. She walked through the courtyard, and he noticed that there were more guards along the walls, though they were facing away from them.  

 

She pushed open the door to the forge, finding it eerily empty. There were still hammers and bits of metal and wood lying along the work surfaces, which irritated Gendry. People needed to learn how to better handle their tools. He was broken from this thought as Arya pulled his head down to kiss her. He dropped his war hammer beside the door and started backing her up to the table in the center and let out a groan when he felt her fingers at the ties of his leathers. He lifted her onto the table and began assaulting her neck with his lips and once more worried the purple spot along her throat. She whimpered in response and when she slipped her hands inside his leathers and stroked over him, he bit her.

 

“Gendry,” she gasped, her hand stroking over him in a slow rhythm, her grip strong. He practically tore at hers and when they were loose enough, he pulled them down her legs, over the top of her boots, holding her ankles in place. He knew that anyone could walk in and find them, which was part of the excitement. He also knew that whoever opened that door would be dead by either her hands or his. She moved to the edge of the table, her legs spread as wide as they could with her ankles still caught.  She teased the length of him against her clit and he groaned against her throat, moving to the other side and delighting in the idea of giving her matching marks.  But when he was seated inside her, stopped moving for a moment as he looked at his wild wolf of a woman.

 

His lips met hers and he moaned into her mouth as he slid inside her. She grunted and broke the kiss. “You couldn’t take my boots off?” she questioned, not able to get him as deep as she obviously wanted.  He wasn’t particularly thrilled with it either, but then he was where he wanted to be.

 

“Busy,” was all he said. He could tell she was still irritated, but she didn’t let that stop her from thrusting against him. “Fuck,” he groaned as he felt her tighten her walls around him as he started to pull out.

  
“We could be fucking better if you had taken off my boots,” she said through gritted teeth.  

 

“Shut up or I’ll fuck you from behind,” he grunted against her lips.

 

She bit his bottom lip and he pulled away from her only to realize she’d caused him to bleed. He stopped thrusting inside her as he worried his lip with his tongue and she gave him a smile. He pulled out of her completely and held her legs up in the air and slipped between them, her ankles now wrapped around his back and he slid into her hard.

 

“Yes,” her loud moan filled the room and he hoped that no one got a bad idea to investigate. She was moving her hips against his vigorously, no longer complaining, instead muttering his name as he could feel how close she was, which he was thankful for because her moaning his name into the forge had been a fantasy of his for longer than he would like to admit.

 

He slipped a hand between them as both of her arms wrapped around his neck, holding him to her closer than before. Her head was thrown back as his thumb circled around her clit and she came apart, her nails dragging down the back of his head to his neck. He growled as he emptied into her, burying his face into her neck and shoulder. He moved his arms around her waist and held her against him, not wanting to let her go, not wanting to leave the forge. In a short amount of time, they would be in the middle of a battle and he didn’t know how that would turn out, but he was hopeful that they weren’t simply reunited to be torn apart from one another.

 

“You alright?” she asked and he realized how tight he was holding her. When he lifted his head, he realized that she wasn’t laughing at him as he thought she might. Instead, she traced her thumb along his jaw, almost looking as desperate as he felt. He didn’t want to let her go. He didn’t know how to voice it, though. He wasn’t a person who recited poetry. He would never be that sort of man, but he felt like Arya in her strength and beauty deserved it.

 

He nodded and leaned in to kiss her lips then her nose. “Fine.”

 

He ducked from between her legs and pulled his leathers up once more as she leaned back on her hands and watched him, her feet dangling in the air, her pants still tangled around her ankles. He smiled slightly at the picture of her and she narrowed her eyes at him. “What?”

 

“From the waist up, you’re the picture of a warrior.”

 

“And from the waist down?” she questioned.

 

“Mine,” he said as he grabbed her feet and adjusted her breeches so she could put her feet on the ground. She started to move to redress herself, and instead, he grabbed them and dragged them up her legs, his fingers brushing against her as he did the laces. She bit her lip in response to him and when he finished she turned away from him to adjust her other clothes.

 

“You’re possessive,” she said softly and then turned into his arms. “I like it.”

 

He smirked. “Good. Because you’re mine. And I’ll kill anyone that thinks to take you from me.”

 

She shook her head. “I’m the cold-blooded killer in this relationship.”

 

“When it comes to you...” he brushed her hair behind her ear. “I won’t be parted from you again.”

 

She smiled. “I know. You’re mine as I am yours.”

 

He leaned down to kiss her and backed her up to the bench. The door did open then and Gendry hated his hammer was standing beside the door near the sellsword. “Did I interrupt?” He looked more amused thinking he had. 

 

Arya reached for the apple that had turned brown from where they'd both taken a bite and he could see she was thinking about throwing it at Bronn. “What do you want, my lord?”

 

He smirked. “I do like it when people call me that.” Then he shook his head as if to get himself back to why he interrupted them. “I heard people in here. I was making sure it wasn't dead people.”

 

“Very much alive,” Gendry said as he walked over to the man and lifted his hammer to hold the door open for Arya.

 

“My lady,” he said and glanced back at Arya who walked past them both and out to the courtyard. “Actually, I was curious how your sister was.”

 

Arya stopped and turned to look at him, a look on her face both of interest and irritation. “Why?”

 

He heaved a dramatic sigh. “I was in charge of the city watch while your sister was married to Tyrion. What happens to her matters to a great many people.”

 

“She's fine. Scared but fine.”

 

“I've faced off with you and your sword. If you survive, you should teach her how to protect herself.  Might not be a lot of us left to show her.”

 

Gendry looked down at Arya and wondered what was going through her mind. “Are you in love with her?”

 

The sellsword scoffed. “Fuck no. But that doesn't mean I want to see her dead either.”

 

“Jaime was there to save her this time.”

 

He nodded and took a few steps towards them. “Luckily for her. What happens when he's not? Or you're not? Even Brienne? She should learn how to fight if for no other reason than to keep someone else like a Ramsay or Joffrey from hurting her.”

 

“What do you know about it?” Arya hissed.

 

“More than I'd like, girl. Joffrey was a cunt. He allowed other people to do his dirty work for him, even if it was beating up defenseless girls like your sister. Tyrion saved her from one such public beating. There is no telling how much we didn't witness.”

 

Gendry frowned. He knew the sellsword wouldn't have brought up the subject if all of this didn't mean something in the end. However, he had a point and could see that Arya agreed with him as well.

 

“I'll see that she's properly trained after we win.”

 

“ _If_ you mean?”

 

She shook her head. “When ” she said confidently and Gendry only smiled at the sellsword as Arya walked inside. Bronn grabbed his arm to keep him from following. “I've done just about every depraved thing you could think of. I would advise against fucking a lady in public.”

 

Gendry’s jaw tensed. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

 

“Yes, you do. I heard the two of you. I don't blame you or even judge you. But she has a lot of family roaming around here. The King In The North is one of them. I don't know how he'd take it to see his sister being fucked in a forge,” his voice was low. “Chances are we all die tonight, so fuck while you can. But keep in mind that whether she likes it or not, she's still a lady.”

 

Gendry pulled his arm away from the sellsword. “I trust, _my lord_ , that this stays between you and me?”

 

He smirked. “Do you think I fancy having her cut my throat?”

 

“She’s not the only one you need to worry about.”

 

He shook his head. “I’m not afraid of you. Her? I’m terrified. But I have no intention of spreading to the gossips.” Gendry started walking away. “You might want to do something about the claw marks down the back of your head.”

 

He didn’t turn around but found Arya waiting for him by the door, her brow furrowed. “What took you so long?” she asked.

 

“I don’t like him,” he mumbled.

 

She shrugged. “Who cares about him?” he looked back once more to see Bronn following them inside, but a good pace behind them as they entered to find other people already milling about the hall.

 

He leaned down to whisper in Arya’s ear. “Did you claw up the back of my head?” he let her see and when he looked at her, she was trying to hide a laugh. “This isn’t funny.”

 

“It’s very funny,” she said with a smile and put her hand over his heart, not caring who was watching them. “I rather like my mark on you.” She paused. “And it’s not as if I don’t carry a great bite mark on my neck.”

 

He smirked down at her. “You, m’lady, are wicked. I love that about you.” She grinned up at him and moved to kiss him but he pulled away slightly and noticed they had an audience. It was only when Arya’s eyes turned to them that they looked away.

 

“What do you care what they think?”

 

“Only when it concerns you. You’re mine,” he whispered, “but I won’t have anyone getting notions about you being ruined.”

 

“Ruined?” she questioned. “How?”

 

“If I’ve had you, that’s what they would think,” he said, his voice soft. “I wouldn’t want to bring dishonor to you or your family.”

 

She frowned. “You are a man of honor. I know that about you. I don’t care what they think or say. You’re mine. I’m yours. If they don’t like it, I’ll kill them while they sleep.”

 

He chuckled. “Gods forbid any of them says something you don’t like. They wouldn’t survive the day.”

 

“Precisely. And if something is said to someone like Jon and he has a problem with it, then I’ll talk to him.”

 

“Oh, will you? Do you think he wouldn’t come find me first and try to cut my dick off?”

 

“He can’t have it. That belongs to me,” she said, her tone leaving little question as to whether or not she believed what she was saying. She did. If anyone else said that about him, he would have taken offense. But not her. “And I’ll tell my brother that I’ll stop fucking you when he stops fucking the queen. Let’s see how he appreciates that.”

 

“I’d rather you not discuss what you and I do with your brother. Let’s start there,” he said as he cupped the back of her head and kissed her forehead.

 

She frowned. “That’s the only kiss I get?”

 

He smiled. “If we live through tonight, I’ll give you your favorite kind of kiss.”

 

She grinned. “I do love the Lord’s kiss,” she whispered then moved away from him and towards the door that led to the Lords and Ladies' chambers as he exhaled. He took a place along the wall and rolled his eyes as Bronn joined him. Jaime entered soon after and joined them against the wall.

 

“Lovely morning to find out how fucked we are, isn't it?” Jaime asked Bronn.

 

“We still have two dragons. That has to count for something.”

 

“And how long until one of them falls and then _they_ have two dragons?”

 

“If you're going to be this fucking happy, you can go stand over there with that pompous Royce cunt,” Bronn said. Arya reentered the room with Brienne, Sansa, and Podrick. The young squire said something to Arya and she smiled and Gendry's hold tightened on his hammer.

 

Bronn nudged him with his elbow. “You glaring at her or Pod?”

 

“Shut up,” he muttered. “Sansa looks alright.”

 

“Better than earlier. At least she's not sobbing,” Jaime answered and he watched as Sansa's eyes met his and they both turned away quickly. There was something there. Even Gendry could see it. Whatever was happening, Arya had already scented it out and whispered something to Sansa that caused her to blush and look down. But she didn't avert her eyes from Jaime's for long and even Gendry had to smirk to see Jaime Lannister uncomfortable.

 

Leave it to Bronn to realize this as well. “You happened to be there when she was being chased by a corpse?”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

“Convenient that you were around.”

 

“We'd been talking.” At this Gendry looked over at Jaime and the older man straightened. “That's all.”

 

Bronn looked unconvinced but Gendry frowned and defended the Lannister. “If he had done anything she didn't want, he'd already been dead. Arya can read people, tell when they're lying. Obviously, he didn't touch Sansa or he wouldn't be standing here.”

 

Bronn seemed to take this into consideration. “Valid point. Sansa wanted you dead as well. I suppose you've been honorable. Such a fucking tragedy.”

 

Gendry looked on as Jaime lowered his voice. “Are you drunk?”

 

“Yes. But that doesn't mean it's not a tragedy that you haven't tried to get beneath that Stark girls skirts. You have women fawning over you all the time.”

 

“Not usually women who want to kill me.”

 

“As I said, an angry fuck is still a good one,” Gendry rolled his eyes and saw Jon and Daenerys enter the room. Arya was moving from the head table when Sansa grabbed her arm and made her stay. She gave Gendry and apologetic look and stayed beside her sister. He winked in response. The wildling, tormund entered the room and moved around the hall to stand beside Jaime, and Gendry nearly laughed at Brienne’s obvious attempts to not look uncomfortable under such scrutiny.

 

“My Lords. My Ladies. Shall we begin?” Daenerys’s voice sounded through the room.


	26. Jon V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final plans are made, orders are given, and so it begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been extremely blessed by this wonderful fandom lately. First and foremost, thank all of you for being so supportive. There are some issues with this fic, specifically issues that could be fixed if I had a beta, but my posting schedule doesn't actually allow for that to happen right now. When it's complete, I will send it through edits to hammer out those things. Second, I am blessed to have met thefuzzyaya on Tumblr. She reached out to me a few weeks ago and asked if she could do some fan art for my story. I've never had anyone offer, before! I was thrilled. The first sketch she sent me I stared at for hours. Literally hours. I couldn't stop smiling, the finished product is posted on the first chapter.
> 
> Then this morning I received the finished picture for Chapter 12, which is now there. I urge all of you to go look at it. It's stunning (and possibly not safe for work) but it's so beautiful!! I'm over the moon and I hope that you guys go give her the love she totally deserves. And go look at Chapter 12! It's amazing! GHOST is even in the background.

**JON**

 

Daenerys began speaking and the hall quieted. “I’m sure all of you were informed about the attack on Lady Sansa Stark a few short hours ago. The dead are closer than we thought. They will be here by nightfall, and we have a lot of preparation yet to do.  King Jon and I hope that we will have your full cooperation in carrying out our plan, which we believe will work,” she said as she walked around the right side of the table as Jon moved around the left, coming together in the center around the table of the map.

 

Tyrion and Davos soon joined to the side of their respective king and queen, and Jon felt his stomach rolling. He didn’t know if he was still reeling from the time on the dragon or if it was the nerves of the battle that was pressing upon them. “As you all know, we’ve had trenches made along the perimeter of the castle and pitch to fill them. The Unsullied will be the first line of defense, and Commander Greyworm and his men will make their focus the giants, and burning as many bodies as possible. All bodies, once they fall, must be burnt. I know many of you will dislike the idea of not having the remains of your loved ones to take back to your keeps, but I assure you, that you don’t want them raised as dead and to fight against you,” he said as he pointed to the outer circle. “Queen Daenerys and I will be on the dragons, burning as much of the force as we can, while watching for breaks. We’ll call down for a retreat should the dead break through the line. We’ll get as many of our men back across the trench before Drogon will light the first trench on fire.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “The second line will be the mounted Dothraki, each of whom has sworn to kill for me. On foot, they are fearsome, but on horses nearly unstoppable.” She nodded at her three blood riders that Messandei had been teaching the common tongue and they nodded to her in respect. “The Khalasar will run through the dead, and bodies will still need to be burned. They have agreed, as well as the Unsullied, to dedicate a certain amount of their fighting force to hold torches and light the dead.”

 

“And if they break that line?” Lord Glover questioned.

 

Jon looked at the older man. “Winterfell is the center of the North. Its people will defend its walls. While the Unsullied and the Dothraki fight on the field, we’ll have archers on the walls with either flaming or dragon glass arrows. But should they make it inside the second trench, the Knights of the Vale will be our mounted force as the Wildlings and Northmen fight together to eradicate this threat. Do not allow them over the walls. However, should they make it into the courtyard, my sister Arya, Ser Sandor Clegane, and Gendry Baratheon,” at this everyone looked over at Gendry and his surprised look nearly made Jon laugh, “will be defending the inside with a small contingent of soldiers. Until which point we have them inside the walls, we request that you all join the archers and either fire arrows or have them lit ready to loose.”

 

Daenerys spoke this time. “To those of you that have Valyrian steel, the White Walkers that sit upon horses are his commanders. It is our experience that when you kill one of them, the dead he turned will die with him. They should be a target if you’re able to get to them. Dragon Glass is also effective at killing them.” He paused, prepared for the next part of his speech to be met with disagreement, but this is what they needed whether these people liked it or not. “Your commanders on the field are Brienne of Tarth, Ser Jorah Mormont, Ser Bronn of the Blackwater, Ser Beric Dondarrion, and Ser Jaime Lannister.” People began murmuring and Daenerys held up her hand, asking for silence. “Ser Jaime has fought against a dragon. He’s been in many battles. He’s come North to help us when his sister broke her word. He deserves your respect.”

 

Jon nodded. “I trust Ser Jaime to be an asset on the field. Ser Jorah speaks in the Dothraki tongue and will be an advantage in that regard, as well as a skilled swordsman. Ser Beric is blessed by the Lord of Light with a flaming sword and a history of commanding men in battles. My Lords and Ladies, I can continue to tell you of their attributes and why we have chosen these people to lead our armies on the ground, or we can get back to the actual reason we’re here: the battle itself.” The room quieted down and Jon looked at Lord Glover. “Lord Glover and Lord Manderly, I request that the two of you be on the walls directing the archers. You’ve both had experience in combat and you’ll know when the best would be to shoot.” Lord Manderly and Lord Glover both nodded in assent. “Lady Lyanna, we would put you on the wall with Lord Glover and my hand, Ser Davos Seaworth.”

 

She nodded. Jon was happy to see her normal confidence was in place, even though it seemed to waver only slightly when most eyes turned away from her. The little bear was a force in this world and he hoped to see her ruling over Bear Island into an old age. She reminded him so much of Arya that his eyes turned to glance back at her where she stood sentinel beside Sansa. Arya turned her head and gave him a soft smile and a nod. He had thought for so long that she was dead, to find her here, alive, healthy, and deadly actually gave him a bit of hope. If she could survive this world with its treacherous men and wicked plots and schemes, even as a young girl, then impossible things could happen.

  
His eyes scanned the hall and landed on Jaime, Bronn, Tormund, The Hound, and Berric whispering amongst themselves while Gendry looked around the room, trying his damnedest not to stare at Arya. That would suss itself out after the battle, but until then, he was glad that Arya had someone watching her back and he had someone watching his. He looked to the Hound who looked annoyed to even be in the room. He listened as Daenerys spoke, trying to rally their troops to their cause, to get them to see hope. The Northmen didn’t take kindly to outsiders, but he knew that if they won this battle, they would thank her. She could save them all.

 

She looked over at Jon and gave him a slight nod and he looked out at the group. “My Lords, my Ladies, this is a battle for all life. Those you love, those you’ve lost. We will win this fight and we will do it because we came together. There are many of us in this room who have reason enough to hate one another. We could hold grudges and let our hatred for one another cloud us. Yet, we’re here. There is no greater honor for me than to be your king and lead you in this battle. Queen Daenerys and I are confident we will succeed, but our confidence comes from you. We’re fighting for our lives, but we’re fighting all lives, our families and for generations to come. I pledge my sword to fight to my death to protect everyone in this room and fighting to protect this castle.”

 

He took a deep breath and looked back at Sansa. “Any children under the age of ten should be brought into the hall before the sun sets. They will be safe, protected with Lady Sansa here in the keep. To everyone else, I wish you all good fortune in the war to come,” he said.

 

Several of the Northern lords gave him nods. Lord Glover led several of them out into the yard and he could hear Lord Glover barking orders at his men to make sure their troops were ready. Berric approached him then and sighed. “All of this truly ends when we kill the Night King.”

 

“Which we both know won’t be easy to accomplish,” he said softly. “But if we take out his army and his ability to raise a new one, we’re ahead of the game.”

 

“And the dragon?” Jaime asked as he, Bronn, and Tormund join them at the table.  

 

“We bring it down as soon as we can, and try not to kill the other two while the Queen and I are on them,” Jon said softly. He watched as those he cared about came down from the head table, Sansa stood to his left with Arya and Brienne. “I will join the fight on the ground if they make it through the second line. Until then, I’ll be on the green dragon flying over them to kill as much as we can from the air,” Jon said softly.

 

“Put Gendry on one of the Scorpions,” Bronn offered and Gendry gave him a strange look. “You built them. Defend them,” he suggested. “You have a great bloody hammer, and we all know, the dead are getting through that second line.” Jon thought his outlook left a lot to be desired. “Chances are, a few will get within the walls and once that king of theirs realizes we’ve built weapons to take down his dragon, he’ll be anxious to send his soldiers to destroy them.”

 

Daenerys tilted her head. “How do you know that?”

 

“It’s what you did. After I fired at you the first time, you came after me to destroy the weapon. I managed to hit your dragon, but he also destroyed it. He may not risk bringing it so close since we have four of them, but then again, we don’t know much about him, now do we?”  


Sansa turned to look at her brother. “What do we know, Bran?”

 

He looked around at those gathered, but there was no emotion to his voice. “He was created by the Children of the Forest to fight the first Men.” He shook his head. “I’m blocked from seeing anything else about him. When I get close, I get pushed out of the visions.”

  
“So, he’s at least got the same power that you do.”

 

“Greater,” Bran noted. “He pushes me away.”

 

“But we know what kills his commanders and his soldiers. We have a good theory about what kills the dragon. We need to know what will kill him,” Jaime sighed. “Fire?”

 

Jon and Daenerys both shook their heads. “Not that I’ve seen,” Jon said. “When we were beyond the wall, he walked through it.”

 

Jorah shook his head. “He didn’t walk through it so much as it seemed to fade around him.”

 

“So he controls fire?” Jaime questioned out loud.

 

Jon frowned. “Maybe. But we go after the giants, after the soldiers, and if we’re able, we go after the Walkers.” He was silent for a moment and then looked to Gilly who was standing in the back of the room speaking with Sam. “Gilly,” he said suddenly, catching everyone off guard. The woman looked surprised to be called on by Jon, however, she and Sam stepped forward. “How many...brothers were born while you lived with your father?”

 

“Since I was born, I had nineteen.”

 

“Any idea how many were before you?”  


She shook her head. “He never talked about the boys.”

 

“Sam has killed one. I’ve killed two.”

 

“Meera killed on,” Bran supplied.

 

“Who’s Meera?” Bronn asked to which Jaime only shook his head.

 

“So, that means, there are at least fifteen Walkers. Probably more,” Jon said softly. “Tormund, talk to the Wildlings, I need them to give up one of the weapons in their hands to fight with a torch. They’re the most skilled outside of the Dothraki with using two weapons.” Tormund nodded to Jon and then the rest assembled and left the room.

 

“Sounds like the entire field will be burning,” Sandor said, looking at the map and grumbling to himself.

 

“Which is why you will be within the walls,” Daenerys said. “We need you in this battle. Anyone who can stand toe to toe with Lady Brienne and live to tell the tale, we need.”

 

The Hound shrugged. “Just keep the fucking fire away from me,” he said as he turned to leave as well.

 

“Bran, Sam will be with you.”

 

“Gilly, too,” Sam said, though it looked like it pained him to say it.

 

“Baby Sam will be safe with Lady Sansa,” she said. “I’d like to help.”

 

Jon nodded. “Thank you, Gilly.”

 

“Bran, I need you to see if there is anything within a day that come help us.”

 

“Like what?”  


“Some...force we haven’t thought of.”

 

Arya spoke, then. “What about Ghost?”

 

“You want him on the field,” Sam said. “I’ve seen him fight. He’d do anything to protect Jon.”

 

“I don’t want to comprehend ‘ _anything_ ’,” Jon insisted.

 

Sansa put a hand on Jon’s arm and he looked over at her. “There’s nothing more to do now but second guess yourself. Don’t. We’re a lot better prepared than we were when you fought Ramsay.”

 

He sighed. “Do you happen to have another army hidden away you didn’t tell me about?” There was no malice in his tone, instead, it was a bit of teasing towards his sister. He knew the battle had been lost until the Knights of the Vale rode in, and they did for her.

 

She shook her head, a small smile on her face. “Not this time. You have everything I do. More, actually. Two dragons, a horde of Dothraki, The Unsullied, Northmen, Wildlings, and small contingent of Lannister forces. In any other battle, the other side would surrender.”

 

“It’s not a normal enemy,” Jon said softly.

 

“No, it’s not. One in which, I had hoped you had hallucinated. Unfortunately, I learned all too well that when you say something, no matter how insane it seems, you’re telling the truth.”

 

“Took you until now?” Arya questioned.

 

“The dead chasing you down a hallway will make you believe a whole host of things,” she said softly. He watched as she glanced around and saw that the group had disbursed most of them going outside, Daenerys, Tyrion, and Davos had moved to the other side of the table giving the Starks time alone.

 

“What would Father say if he were here and could see each of us?” Sansa questioned

 

Jon sighed. “I wonder about that a great deal.”

 

“King of the North, the three-eyed raven, a faceless man,” she scoffed, “and a politician?”

 

Arya nudged Sansa with her elbow. “A survivor. A fighter.”

 

“The Lady of Winterfell,” Jon said with a slight nod. “I’m glad we found each other, again.”

 

Sansa nodded. “I need all of you to try not to die. I’ve lost enough family. I don’t care to do it anymore.”

 

Arya looked at Jon. “She’s talking to you.”

 

“Why do you assume it’s me?”

 

“You’ve already died once. We don’t want you to make it a habit.”

 

“No plans, sister,” he said and Sansa stepped forward to hug him. “You be careful and keep yourself behind that door with Podrick at all times.”

 

“And you kill the Night King,” she whispered.

 

Jon pulled back from her and Arya shook her head. “I’m not hugging you,” she said to Jon and he frowned and it was obvious to him she could read the question on his tongue because she answered before he could voice it. “I’m going to see you again. We’re going to win this war. Why would I hug you before that?”

 

He sighed. “Fine. You don’t have to hug me,” he said as he stepped forward and hugged her, lifting her from the ground. “They swarm,” he whispered. “Be prepared for it.”

 

“I can take care of myself,” she said, finally relented, and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him to her tight.

 

“I’ve never doubted you,” he reassured and placed her back on her feet.

 

Bran was looked up at them and Jon stooped beside his chair. “I do have a request. Keep searching, see if you can find some weakness of his, something we can use. And if you can, you send Sam to me.”

 

Bran nodded. “I’ll try to see better,” he responded. “Good luck.”

 

“Seems like when we part, you become something more. I only hope that’s the case this time,” He stood then and gave one last nod to Sansa as he began walking to the door, Davos on his heel. “How many men do we actually have from the North?”

 

“Six thousand.”

 

Jon winced. “With or without the Wildlings.”

 

“They’re as Northern as you are,” he responded. “Around seven thousand Unsullied and...the Dothraki are hard to count...”

 

“What did Messandei say when you asked her?”

 

“They don’t count,” he answered. “Jorah suspects around ninety thousand.”

 

He turned to look at the other man and then stepped onto the wall to look out over the Dothraki tents. “Ninety thousand?” He questioned softly. “She had over one-hundred thousand men when she reached these shores and she held back.”

 

“She came here with one-hundred thousand, said to be the largest Khalasar in existence. Even if she didn’t lose that many fighting against Jaime Lannister...they’re not used to fighting in weather like this. And it’s going to get colder. Whether she held back or not seems irrelevant at this point.”

 

He frowned and he heaved a sigh. “You and I stood there on that beach and heard her say she wanted to fly her dragons to the red keep and end Cersei. What if I hadn’t stopped her? We could be in complete control of the Lannister army...”

 

“And still feel outnumbered,” Davos responded. “We can’t worry about the past. We can’t change any of it. But we can fight the future.”

 

“Aye. And we will,” he said, the sun rose over the horizon, though it’s light wasn’t as bright as Jon would have liked.

 

*~*

 

He felt as if the hours flew by, watching last minute preparations being made.  The Dothraki and Unsullied had packed up their tent and the cells of Winterfell were being used to hold their supplies. Even the kennels were being used to house their things. Jon had wondered what would happen to the items that belonged to the men who fell. He stood at the gates and watched the Dothraki spread amongst the second layer of the forces. He knew a few of them had seen the dead thing in the pit and he was certain that all the men knew what was coming for them. It was quite different to know and to see.

 

He watched as Daenerys stood amongst the Dothraki, all of them on their knees for her. He couldn’t understand anything she was saying, but watching her command the warriors, each of them holding nothing but respect for her, had him transfixed. Davos stood behind him and sighed. “I’m certainly glad you made allies with her. Could you imagine what would have happened had she marched North with them?”

 

“No. We would have all died. And a Dothraki would be sitting Lord of the Keep?”

 

“Then let’s thank the Gods you had the stupid fucking idea to go south.”

 

Jon turned and looked at Davos. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me, Ser Davos. I’m not sure how much of this I would have been able to accomplish without you.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure a great deal, but I’m happy to serve as your hand,” he saw Lady Mormont and gave her a nod. “If you’ll excuse me, there’s a little Bear requesting my presence.”

 

The shouting of the Dothraki caught his attention and he watched as the warrior ran from Daenerys and climbed onto their horses and began circling inside the second trench. Daenerys’ eyes caught him and she walked over to him and sighed. “The sun sets.”

 

Jon spoke softly. “But it will rise,” he said softly.

 

She smiled back at him. “I love you. I thought you should know that before we go flying off into the night.”

 

He smiled for a moment. “I know. You know without me having to say it.”

 

She nodded. “I do.”

  
She stepped forward and placed a kiss on his lips, not allowing him to make it deeper. “It’s not a kiss goodbye,” she said when she pulled away. “It’s for good fortune. Let’s win this fight.”

 

He nodded and helped her onto Drogon then he turned to climb onto Rhaegal. The snow to the North grew heavier and the sky in that direction seemed to grow darker. _They bring the storm_. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to settle himself. When he opened them again he was resolute. They would win, and he’d give his life to make sure that it happened.

 

He patted down the green dragon, leaned forward and said, “ _Valhd._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, have you gone to look at the art???


	27. Jaime V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, everyone, go to Chapter 1 & 12 and look at the amazing artwork that thefuzzyaya has done for this fic! It's absolutely gorgeous!

  


**JAIME**

 

Jaime looked down at the lions that adorned his shoulders and tried to ignore the shame he felt at them. Maybe he would restore the family name. He only hoped that they managed to make it a decent fight before everyone lost hope and they all became new soldiers for the Night King. His hope had dwindled down to naught by an ember, though he wouldn’t allow anyone to know it. The King and Queen seemed confident enough. Perhaps that’s all that was needed. He opened the door to exit his room and stopped at seeing Tyrion outside the door.

 

“Not exactly a maid here to wish me good fortune,” Jaime teased, feeling uncomfortable with Tyrion’s presence.

 

Tyrion frowned. “I’m going to try to get through this without embarrassing either us. You’ve made a lot of mistakes.” Jaime looked at him with harsh eyes, wanting to know how the man who had killed their father could dare say that to him. “Let me finish. You’ve made a lot of mistakes, and people in the North remember them. Unfortunately for them, I have a rather long memory as well. I’ll remind them that when our hour was bleak, you came to help. When our sister turned her back on this war, you pledged your sword. You’re the commander that the King and Queen chose because you were the best option, not the only one,” he finished with a sigh. “I regret that what I did destroyed the relationship that you and I had. I would give almost anything to repair it. However, I can not. You always fought for me when you shouldn’t have. You never made me feel worthless.” Jaime frowned and listened to his brother and watched as he struggled to maintain his emotions behind a carefully constructed mask of disinterest.

 

“So, I realize that the outcome of this could be worldwide devastation and none of it will matter come morning...,” he looked at Jaime and he felt the anger he had felt at Tyrion dissipate a bit, “and as ridiculous as it sounds, maybe it’s because I’ve spent too much time around my queen that she inspires me to believe in the impossible, but I believe in you. You’re the right commander, the right man, the right Lannister to be leading this army. I love you, Jaime. And if you don’t love me anymore, just...lie to me for old time’s sake.”

 

Jaime frowned and then went to one knee in front of his brother. “I will not lie,” he said softly. “I love you, little brother.”

 

Tyrion hugged him. “Please live.”

 

“I’ll do my best.”

 

He stood, nodded at Tyrion, then walked down the corridor into what he hoped would not be his doom.

 

He found Bronn and Brienne seated on their horses waiting for him. Jaime’s reigns were held out to him and he rode out of the yard, casting one last glance at the keep and seeing a hooded figure standing on the wall.  He realized it was Sansa as she turned away and walked back into the keep. 

 

The familiar rush of his blood moved beneath his skin. It’s how he always felt before a battle, never more than when he and Bronn had faced off against the dragon. He could see the Dothraki with their torches between the two trenches. He knew it was more than that. He couldn’t see to the front of the line. All he saw was thousands of bodies for as far as the eye could see. They arrived at Berric and Tormund, who was standing on the ground. 

 

“Good fortune in the wars to come,” Berric said to them all. The snow began to pick up around the North of the castle and a great screech could be heard over top of them and he watched as Drogon flew to stand in front of the Dothraki, Rhaegal beside him. He could actually feel the temperature drop as they waited, and though his blood was pumping, he could almost feel himself freezing on the spot. He glanced back at the Wildling Tormund and saw him jumping in place, and the rest of the Wildlings began doing the same. Tormund instructed the lords of the North to do the same, and Jaime realized he was showing them how to keep them from freezing. 

 

Bronn watched as well and he nodded to them. “Maybe we should get off the fucking horses.”

 

Jaime frowned. “Not yet.”

 

“We’ll freeze to death before we decide not to,” Brienne said as she climbed from her mount and Bronn, Jorah, and Berric did the same. Jaime followed suit and two of the younger boys in the group came to take their mounts back inside the keep. 

 

Tormund was then standing beside Brienne. “Move, but only enough to keep your blood pumping. Too much, and you won’t have enough fight left in you,” he said as he rolled his shoulders. Jaime saw a bright burst of blue flame cut through the line on their right and realized it was Viscerion. He didn’t see the dead before they began filtering in, but he could hear the charge of weapons and suddenly the sight of bodies being burned in front of them. He could see the orange flame of fire Rhaegal and then Drogon as they circled around Winterfell. Jon and Daenerys were flying the dragons in opposite directions burning through the armies. He could hear the clashing of metal and suddenly, through the haze of the Dothraki, a large giant burst through the field. 

 

He thought, for a moment, that his heart had stopped beating. In the last year, he had seen things he never thought possible: Dothraki screamers, living dragons, two Targaryens, a greenseer, a running dead man, and now a dead giant. Maybe this was the end to everything, and this battle and these unsual things were a signal to the world. 

 

Several large thumps sounded through the field and it was then that Jaime realized more of the giants had fallen, and as their great bodies were lit with torches, it helped to illuminate the field. The surge of the dead through the woods seemed endless. Flaming arrows soared overhead and he didn’t know how close the dead were if they were actually taking aim from the keep. The storm continued to rage, but the sight of the other two dragons gave him a bit of hope until blue flame cut through the Dothraki line again. The sound of the Scorpions firing gave him hope as he watched the dead dragon retreat away from their lines.  Snow swirled around them, and not the stuff of poems that the North touted as songs of legend. This was harsh and biting and he was afraid it would be never-ending. 

 

A loud wail, that of a dragon, sounded through the field and Jaime turned in time to see Drogon seemingly falling to the ground, Viscerion with his great jaw around Dogon’s neck. Rhaegal was on the other side of the field, and though he was flying as fast as the dragon seemed to, he felt a great hopelessness grip his heart as the black dragon appeared to be fighting the other dragon even as Drogon tried to right itself while it fell to the ground. He couldn’t make out if Daenerys was still seated on him or not, but if they lost another dragon, this war was over before it had fully begun.

 

_ Not so soon! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, more tomorrow!


	28. Daenerys V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys and Drogon get in on the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I often listen to music as I write. So, this chapter is brought to you by the song "Believer" by Imagine Dragons.

**DAENERYS**

 

She took a cursory path over the field looking at the thousands of assembled men and women that were going to fight for the coming dawn. The wind was harsh but continued to get even worse.

 

and then saw the dead begin to filter out from the trees around the entire keep. Daenerys was determined she would not lose faith, though she was shaking and not from the cold. They would win this war, no matter the odds. She could barely see Jon across the field on Rhaegal and she came to land Drogon in front of the Dothraki. 

 

“ _ Fight for me as free me! Defend the North! Defend its people! _ ” she cried and the Unsullied raised their spears and began charging through the dead and fires began to be lit as bodies fell. 

 

Jon landed beside her on Rhaegal and she glanced over at him. “Opposite directions,” she called and he nodded. “Be safe.” She leaned over Drogon and felt the beast fly into the air and burn the bodies.  She was startled to see a Giant run from amongst the trees and toss aside her Unsullied and then through the Dothraki before the horse lords took the great beast down. She flew over the dead calling, “DRACARYS!” and Drogon’s flame lit up the world. She looked down at the dead, the Unsullied holding their own against the overwhelming force. They moved together as a unit, their movements graceful yet deadly compared to the swarming of the dead.

 

Two more giants pushed through the trees, but a well-placed spear to one’s eye sent it to the ground, and the body was ignited. Another giant fell, and when his body was ignited, she knew that at least the burning bodies was giving better visibility on the field. As the large beasts came quickly through the trees, the Unsullied rushed them, collapsing them before too much damage could be done. 

 

She heard a great screech and stared on in horror as Viscerion screamed over her warriors, lighting them afire as he flew. Unsullied and Dothraki alike. It caused something within her to ignite, a rage she hadn’t felt since she’d been betrayed by the witch that caused Drogo’s death. Doreah’s betrayal. All significant moments in her life where she felt the fire in her blood boil, the dragon wanting to feed and destroy. 

 

The Night King retreated back towards his forces and the dead continued to come and fires continued to burn. The air grew heavy with smoke and snow, the wind grew harsher the longer she flew. She watched the lines, making sure that there were no weak spots that needed reinforcement. Thus far, unless a giant broke through the line, they had managed to hold well. 

 

She could still see the dead moving towards Winterfell through the trees and flew Drogon over them, burning the field as they went, almost as one. She saw the blue flame again and only leaned closer to Drogon, a sure sign to her child that they needed to fly faster, harder. 

 

They circled again and as she was coming to the east of the castle, Drogon was hit broadside and it was all she could do not to fall. She locked eyes with the Night King where he sat as he used Viscerion to attack Drogon, and she watched in horror as her smallest dragon, the one she’d lost and mourned for, attacked one of her children. His great jaws tried to grip onto Drogon’s throat, only the larger dragon was too big for him to get hold. This realization did nothing to calm her as she realized they were actually falling to the ground. “DROGON!” she called out to him, hoping he came to the same realization she did. 

 

Her fingers gripped onto the points of his scales, holding on harder than she ever had. She wanted to close her eyes, not wanting to watch the impact when they inevitably hit the ground. There was another large bump and Viscerion had been dislodged from Drogon, but the impact had caused her to lose grip and held on only by one hand. She could vaguely hear Jon shout her name as Rhaegal spit fire at Viscerion, causing the night king to once again retreat. She could see the ground now and then felt Drogon flap his wings as he came in for a rough landing on the ground which completely dislodged her from the dragon. 

 

All the breath had been knocked from her, unable to actually inhale as she lay amongst the snow and mud. She could almost feel the cold seeping into her back even as her eyes couldn’t focus. Her head spun and she shook it, trying to rid herself of the fog that clouded her vision.

 

She felt hands at her legs and looked down to see one of the dead things clawing at her. Daenerys would have screamed if she’d been able to take a breath that deep. Instead, she struggled against it. She kicked it with the heel of her boot but it fell on top of her and she held the mostly bones creature with only one arm as her left was throbbing and mobility with it was nearly impossible. Its teeth gnashed at her, the bright blue of its eyes sent a chill throughout her body that had nothing to do with the cold, and she had to wonder if this was how she was going to die. Drogon was fighting against the dead approaching him, and couldn’t help her. She knew this was probably it. A spear shoved through the face of her attacker and she looked up, hopeful to see one of her Unsullied standing over her with two more behind him protect their queen. He helped her stand but she put pressure on her left arm and cried out, realizing that it was broken to hurt the way it did. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered if she couldn’t get Drogon back into the air. She had to protect her people, she had to protect her children. 

 

Drogon was burning the dead as they approached, also using his tail to swipe at anything that got close enough to hurt his mother. She held her arm close to her body as she stepped onto Drogon’s wing and then back to her place. “ _ Valhd _ ,” she called and the great dragon flew into the air once more.

 

Daenerys watched as the dead began to make their way through the line of her Unsullied and flew overhead, screaming for her forces to fall back to the next line.  Another circle around and she flew over the trench and called, “Dracarys.”  The fire followed her around the ring, burning the dead that remained in the trench and giving time to those who had fallen back to catch a breath.  Her arm was now throbbing, but she knew she needed to try to grip in order to hold onto the dragon beneath her.

 

She heard the screech again and watched as Viscerion followed Jon around the field and tensed as she saw a bolt fly too close to Jon and Rhaegal.  _ Those fools on the wall better not hit either of them _ . Viscerion flew towards the keep and she watched burning arrows fly at the dragon and Night King. 

 

Daenerys leads Drogon in the opposite direction, passing Jon as Drogon flew at full force into Viscerion.


	29. Arya V & Gendry V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya watches the battle from the rampart and Gendry joins her in the frey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arya's part was really short, so I wanted to add Gendry's to it as I feel like they sort of go hand in hand.

**ARYA**

 

When the fighting began, Arya felt herself getting excited, but tried to control it. It wouldn’t do to run through her adrenaline before she even entered the fight. In fact, she took several deep breaths and closed her eyes, trying to fight off the feeling as long as possible. This battle would rage for a long while, and tiring herself out before she even used her sword would help no one. 

 

Seeing Jon flying on a dragon was something she didn’t know if she would ever get used to. In fact, thinking of him as anything other than her brother wasn’t something to even comprehend. 

 

But watching the dragons fly and light the field with their fire, taking out no telling how many of the dead as they burned, was something to truly behold. Their power, the ability to change the way a battle could go, was frightening...if you were on the other side. 

 

Arya stood between Lyanna Mormont and Davos while they watched the field begin to light up as bodies began to be burned. The dragons flying overhead gave her a bit of peace as she could see their flames cutting through the dead armies. Only when they flew by and their flames remained did she actually get a view of the force coming for them. It was disheartening to think of all the people that died to make up the army of the dead. How long had he been collecting people to fight against the living? Why? If they knew that, they might be able to defeat him easier.

 

Suddenly, the blue flame lit up the field, slicing its way through the Unsullied and then the Dothraki and she felt true fear as she saw how fast the dragon was flying and heard one of the Scorpions fire then the other. They both missed but it was enough to get the Night King to pull back and away from the field. She saw the dragon settle amongst the dead coming amongst the trees. Arya took a cursory glance at the tower and could almost make out Gendry's form, but at hearing the screech of a dragon looked on in horror as the Night King had flown his dragon at Daenerys and Drogon. Jon, on Rhaegal, was flying as fast as he could towards them even as they fell. 

 

When Rhaegal latched onto the dead dragon, it was forced to release Drogon and she felt her heart skip a beat as Rhaegal chased after the Night King. Even still, the large black dragon fell and finally righted himself before they took a rough landed, but whether or not the Dragon Queen was still on him remained to be seen. 

 

“Fuck,” Davos said from beside Arya, and she didn’t think she could sum up her feelings any better than that. 

 

Arya saw Drogon’s flames lighting up the dead and Jon on Rhaegal was hovering over the ground as Rhaegal burned through the dead as well. She didn't know how long the black dragon was on the ground before he flew into the air once more and circled around the field. Arya hated being so far away and unable to protect the people she loved. She knew her purpose, she knew why she was currently on the wall of Winterfell with a bow in her hand. But she wanted to ensure that Jon was alive. She wanted to make sure that Daenerys was alive. So much of this war depended on her. Her armies were what stood between the North and the dead. Her dragons were the ones fighting in the air, giving them a slight advantage. As Drogon circled to the west, she thought she could see Daenerys on his back, but she wouldn't say for sure. The dead dragon’s flame lit up the field again, cutting a swath through the Unsullied and Dothraki.

 

“Shoot that son of a bitch down,” Davos called as the Night King on Viscerion was close enough and called for them to load arrows onto their bows.  “Nock!”

 

Arya pulled her bow taut, the arrow beside her cheek. It had been a long time since she had fired. She didn’t know if she was going to hit the dragon or the evil being riding him. She didn’t care which one took the hit as long as they went down.

 

“Hold!”

 

She took a deep breath in as the Night King flew closer. One arrow. Could it really end with one arrow?

 

“Loose!”

 

Arya let the arrow fly and reloaded her bow to draw again. She remembered Anguy’s lesson all those years ago. Don't concentrate on the target. She got another shot off before he turned and flew out of range. She glanced at the little girl beside her, amazed at her calm demeanor under pressure. 

 

“How long have you been using a bow?” Arya asked, trying to take the younger girl’s mind off of the possibilities of everyone in this battle dying. A part of her was trying to take her own mind off of it.

 

“A few months,” Lyanna responded. She looked over at Needle at Arya’s side and then up at the older girl. “Your sword?”

 

“Years, now. Six, maybe?”

 

The truth was she had lost track of time when she'd been in Braavos. The days and nights blended together, training was her only concern. Becoming no one and leaving behind the life she’d had in Westeros. She was meant to leave everyone and everything. She could let go of most things. The thought of letting go of Needle and of her fond memories of Jon weren’t something she could actually do.

 

In the line of blood, he wasn’t actually her brother. But there was no other way to think of him. 

 

“I hope I don't have to prove my skill with a sword,” Lyanna said, and she saw uncertainty in the little bear.

 

“I agree. Let the dead stay out there.”

 

Now, she had the chance to use what she'd learned. There was no doubt she was as good as she believed she was. Soon, it would be time to use what she'd learned to protect those she loved.

 

It was then she saw the outer ring light as Drogon flew over it. But suddenly, the large black dragon latched into Viscerion and a part of Arya was elated to see the dead dragon fighting for its life. Rhaegal’s flame lit up the sky as it blew at the Night King. But the smoke was growing too heavy on the field; snow and ash filling the sky making it nearly impossible to see. The ring of Fire around the Keep was too bright to allow her to see what was happening, but she heard the Scorpion fire and Arya felt her heart race! All three dragons were too close. Why would they fire?

 

They were at a high position and may have had a better vantage point, but the risk seemed too high. She could no longer see the dragons and feared for both Daenerys and especially Jon. She could feel panic building inside her, but she wouldn't let it fester. They would win this. There was no doubt. No doubt. 

 

However, as she thought this and tried to push the feeling into her heart, to feel it truly, the outer ring’s flame was suddenly extinguished. She didn’t know how this was possible. 

 

Davos leaned against the wall and she took a step forward as well. “What's happened?” Lyanna questioned.

 

“I don't know my lady. But nothing good comes from that,” Davos asked.

 

***~***

 

**GENDRY**

 

As the fires in the trenches went out, any chance of being able to see what was happening left with it. From the tower, he was able to see the field better. He saw the numbers of the dead that were now crushing through the field as the Dothraki and Unsullied fought them off together. There were fewer and fewer bodies burning, which gave him a sick feeling in this pit of his stomach.

 

The second trench lit, only he didn’t see who lit it. Last he saw of Jon or Daenerys on the dragons, they were still to the other side of the castle fighting it out in the air with the other one. They all watched in horror as the dead dragon flew to the tower opposite them and used it’s flame to destroy it. Gendry’s partner on the tower fired at the dragon but only just missed. 

 

He got another bolt loaded onto the Scorpion and his partner took aim as once again the dragons were fighting with one another. Drogon had now attacked the dead dragon and he could see them hanging out in the field and his partner, a young soldier named Harry fired in the direction of the dragons. It was the second time he’d sent a bolt at the three of them and Gendry was quickly losing his temper.

 

“You fire that fucking thing at all three again, I’ll crack your skull in!” He shouted.

 

He saw a giant run through the Dothraki and then lay on the fire, allowing bridge for the dead to pass over. And now the Knights of the Vale and the Northron lords joined the fight. Viscerion flew towards the castle and suddenly he was hit by Rhaegal. They were close enough for Gendry to see Jon on the back of Rhaegal and so when he heard the sounds of bolts being let loose from the Scorpions, he had a moment of panic until one struck the dead dragon and let loose of Viscerion to fly away from the falling dragon. 

 

“SHOOT IT NOW!” Gendry screamed at Harry and the second bolt hit Viscerion in the chest before it hit the ground. They both moved to the edge of the tower and could see the dragon lying dead on the field, but looked on in horror as he realized the dead were now crawling up the sides of the keep.

 

Gendry took up his hammer and cleared two of them off at once as the man with him used his dragonglass sword to stab one in the head. He looked over at the rampart where Arya had been and realized that most everyone had abandoned it and he could see them in the courtyard.

 

He grabbed Harry and pulled him along behind him down the stairs.  “We’re supposed to shoot the Scorpion.”

  
“The dragon we needed dead is dead. Time to fight the ones inside the yard,” he said as they burst out the door and used his hammer to make his way to Arya. The hound had Davos and Lady Mormont near him. He was surprised to see the little bear so able to swing a blade, but his surprise turned to questions as a host of the dead suddenly turned to ash in front of them. Arya was still fighting a few on her own, but he watched in horror as she was suddenly taken down. He ran as fast as he could to reach her. If he lost her, then none of this mattered. He could see the Hound rushing to her as well when suddenly one after the other that had been on top of her slacked on top of her as she used a dragonglass knife stab them.

 

He stopped beside her, the Hound and Davos having fought their way over to her. She had a gaping wound on her shoulder and thigh. “Arya,” he questioned. 

 

“I’m fine,” she said as she stood on her good leg.

 

“You’re hurt,” he insisted. 

 

She glared at him. “But we still have to fight.” Another group of the dead turned to ash and bones in front of them, leaving only about ten to kill in the courtyard. “What’s happening out there?” she questioned as she took Needle into her hand once more.  

 

“We need to kill these fuckers and maybe we can go look,” Davos said and the five of them put their backs to each other and began fighting in a circle, the Hound taking out ten with the swing of his broadsword. Lyanna’s center was low enough that almost any swing of her sword was an upswing, nearly causing the bodies to be cut in half. He took a swing of his hammer and three of the dead were gone. The courtyard was suddenly empty save for them and a few other soldiers. Davos went to the rampart and shook his head. “I can’t see a fucking thing!” he said when suddenly the black dragon flew over the top of them. 

 

Gendry helped Arya to a sitting position and he looked at both wounds and saw the blood seeping from them. His eyes met her and he was terrified to see her even paler. “Don’t move!” he ordered and removed his belt. He looped it above the wound on her leg and tied it off.

 

“The dragons are burning the Night King!” Davos called. 


	30. Jaime VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fighting, loss, and pain...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty short, but only because my next two chapters are super long because of the POVs.

  


**JAIME**

The great thud of a dragon slamming into the dirt sent the men in front of him to the ground, but he luckily fell against the castle.  The one called Viscerion screeched no more and the Night King stared at the great bolt sticking out from its heart.  Jaime watched him try to touch it only for him to withdraw his hand as if burnt. His focused turned to them and he felt a cold settle into his bones he’d never felt before, almost as if he would never be warm again.

 

Suddenly, Beric Dondarrion, with his flaming sword, stepped in front of the Night King to stop his advance towards the castle. “Kill his commanders!” Beric shouted.

 

He was pulled from his thoughts as more of the dead rushed towards them. Jaime killed a few more walkers and Bronn set them ablaze immediately after, slicing through a few in front of him as well.  There were still a few climbing up the walls, but the voice of the Hound barking orders inside the walls let him know that there were still people fighting.

 

Several of the walkers advancing towards them shattered into a pile of bones and across the field, he could see Jon Snow running towards the Night King as Daenerys flew overhead on the great black dragon.  Jon sliced through another White Walker and it shattered at the sword that went through it, more walkers fell.  

 

“Brienne!” Jaime called.  “The ones like knights!  They cause the others to fall!”  Jaime and Brienne both rushed forward, striking down anything that appeared to be undead.  They raced past the fallen dragon and passed Jon as he ran for the Night King.  There were three of them that Jaime could see and Bronn, Brienne, and Jaime rushed the same one and Brienne blocked it’s blade as Jaime sliced clear through it.

 

A screech went up through the air directly behind Brienne.They turned in time to see a White Walker suddenly shatter and the weapon that struck it in the back fell to the ground.  A giant axe made of dragonglass.  Jaime looked up to see that it was Tormund who had killed it, though he was bleeding from his face and the top of his head.  He gripped the axe and nodded to the three of them. “Those fuckers need to die,” he said, pointing to them about the remaining White Walkers.

 

Brienne moved forward and Bronn, Jaime, and Tormund followed.  It swiped its great sword at Brienne’s face and Tormund swiped at it with his axe, but it immediately turned to charge at Bronn, caught him on a parry, and it’s spear pierced his heart. Jaime momentarily stopped as the sellsword look at him with shock. Never had Jaime considered that he would be one lost during the battle. He had an amazing ability to survive. And now he wouldn’t get his castle. He died a warrior’s death and he felt a great sense of injustice that Bronn had died.

 

They watched as Bronn’s eyes changed to the horrific blue of a wight as the spear was removed. Jamie was horrified to see Bronn drop the torch, no sense of right or wrong, no ability to control his actions, and he began advancing on Brienne. Tormund swiped at the White Walker as Brienne ducked the now dead Bronn’s sword. Jaime stepped forward and sliced Bronn’s head from his body. He didn’t watch him fall, couldn’t, to be honest. Bronn had been his protector on more than one occasion and he’d failed him. Brienne had quickly moved to help Tormund fight off the last White Walkers.

 

They were joined by another White Walker, and Brienne ducked that attack as well, and Jaime rolled across the ground to avoid an attack but came face to face with another and held his sword up to block the blow. As he went to readjust, the White Walker swung again.

 

Jaime froze to realize he wouldn’t be able to readjust his sword again and brought his golden hand up to block the blow. The gold shattered around him and he screamed as the pain shot down the entire length of his arm. He had enough time to see Tormund cut it in two with his axe then watched him rush to help Brienne as he drew the attention of the White Walker and Brienne sliced it in half, sending the body scattered into the wind.

 

He felt his body slam into the ground, an excruciating pain shooting through his right arm, reminding him all too well of when he’d lost his hand. Jaime wasn’t sure if he was dying, but he felt like the pain was actually a reminder that, at this point, he was still alive. He lay on the ground as he watched his friend and her Wildling admirer fight off the last Wight in their vicinity before his eyes closed and he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know...short...but it's leading somewhere.


	31. Jon VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon goes toe-to-toe with the Night King

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy this chapter - I hope my explanation about the dragons fire and the Night King makes sense. Bran will tell them more, later. Huge thanks to my friend, Kim, who helped me to make this chapter better.

**JON**

Chaos reigned as the dead filtered in through the second ring and began attacking the forces of the North. But watching Viscerion fall and the Night King land on the ground, Jon knew that it was time to face this fight on the ground. The smell of burning and rotting flesh filled the air and if he allowed himself to think about it too much he would have been sick. He steered Rhaegal to an area that wasn’t so filled with the dead. He could still see Daenerys circling overhead with Drogon.

When he saw her fall, his heart had stopped beating, so great was his fear that he was going to lose her. But he watched her kill a Wight with a knife and the Unsullied rush to her aid. They assisted her back on the dragon and she flew into the air. It wasn’t relief because there was no way to actually feel that while a battle raged on, but knowing that she was alive for a moment gave him a moment to catch his breath.

But now, he climbed from Rhaegal and withdrew his sword. He could make out the fallen form of Viscerion on the ground and began to fight his way towards it. One of the commanders of the Night King’s Army was slashing his spear at several of the Northron forces, his back to Jon. He ran forward and cut the thing in half, and it shattered from the blow of his sword.  He continued running, barely making out Jaime, Brienne, Bronn and what looked like Tormund running towards the center of the field as the commanders seemed to be coming to the aid of the Night King.

Jon continued running, growing closer and realized that Beric was facing off with him, holding his own momentarily, his flaming sword fighting off the blows from the Night King. His eyes burned from the flame, ash, and soot in the air, his lungs heavy with it and he sped towards the monster facing off against Beric. Beric who didn't seem to fear his fate. Jon jumped over bodies, trying to get to the Night King. It was his one driving force, to take down the leader of the dead. He would not survive this battle if Jon could stop him. Jon slashed his sword at the Night King who ducked and blocked the blow from Beric. Jon advanced on him, but the Night King parried and the impact of it sent Jon to the ground. If he was able to send him to the ground with a defensive move, then what would happen if he actually used the spear for more than blocking?

He climbed back to his feet as the Night King stabbed at him with the double-edged spear, and though he missed Jon, he lunged the other side into Beric’s chest. He watched as the knight fell to the ground, his body immediately igniting. He didn’t know how, assumed it was because of the Lord of Light. His sword’s flame extinguished as it fell to the snow.

He felt a rage inside of him that burned through his chest into his extremities. This monster has killed hundreds of thousands, desecrated their lands, and destroyed their people and their homes. Jon would see him dead, even if it meant giving his own life in return. He blocked the blow from the Night King and then swung at him, causing the monster to retreat backwards. However, one powerful kick from the King and Jon was sent tumbling backwards, staring up at the sky as he felt the breath knocked from his chest, his body seeming to coil in on itself. He'd been burned, stabbed, shot with arrows, and suffered betrayal, but he was nearly certain nothing hurt as much as this.

He couldn’t breathe, unable to breathe in. He could see the Night King advancing towards him and his sword lying away from him. He could barely move, sure that his ribs were broken from the impact of the kick.

As the Night King advanced, though, he was suddenly stopped in his tracks by dragon fire. It wasn’t destroying him, but he wasn’t able to move through it, the force of the flame seemingly held him back. He suddenly felt hands beneath his arms. Jorah was to his left, and to his horror, Daenerys was on his right. Drogon seemed to take a breath and the Night King leveled his eyes at the dragon and began advancing on Drogon.

“DROGON!” Daenerys called and before either of them could move, the undead monster was hit with dragon fire again, this time from the back by Rhaegal. Jon turned to Daenerys, panic in his eyes as she watched her dragons hold the Night King at bay.

“You have to get back on Drogon and get into the air,” he said, though, his breathing was coming out labored and he tasted blood on his tongue. He thought it was a marked improvement from the ash that lingered in the air.  
  
She moved away from him, Jorah releasing Jon to protect Daenerys. She grabbed his sword and put it back in his hands.  But Rhaegal was getting overrun by the dead and flew into the air to escape, leaving Drogon on the ground. “Go!” She nodded and began to make her way to Drogon who once again took a breath.

They turned to see the Night King had taken aim at Daenerys as she had run towards the dragon and before Jon could get to her, Jorah had stepped between the spear and Daenerys. The queen screamed at seeing her faithful knight fall. She stood frozen to the spot and incapable of moving, but Jorah twitched on the ground, his eyes turning the eerie blue.

“DAENERYS! GO!” He said before he used Jorah's ancestral sword to run him through not allowing him to fully shift into one of the mindless wights.

Her eyes met Jon's briefly and made her way back to her dragon. The Night King advanced on her and Jon followed him, ignoring the pain in his chest and that every breath he took was agony. He wouldn’t let her fall. He wouldn’t let the Night King take her from this world. She climbed onto Drogon, the dragon giving one last blast of flame at the Night King before he turned and flew into the sky. Jon squared off against the Night King once more, though his body felt weak even though his resolve was solid.

He swung his spear and Jon deflected it, avoiding another kick from the Night King, as he knew another blow to his chest would mean he was done. A great howl sounded behind him and Jon was afraid to see Ghost charging at them. But it wasn’t Ghost, at least not him alone. A pack of wolves, two dires amongst them. Ghost was easy to pick out with his white fur, though covered with blood and mud. The other wolves he didn’t know where they had come from. Although, one looked suspiciously like Arya’s lost direwolf, Nymeria.

They surrounded the Night King, growling and snarling at him. Jon didn’t know if the Night King was afraid, or if he was capable of feeling fear, but he spun in the circle they had made around him and he slightly crouched as the wolves launched into attack, the smaller ones first, none doing damage, but giving the distraction Jon needed.

When Ghost and the other large Dire wolf entered the fray, Ghost went for a leg, pulling the Night King to the ground while the other went for his arm. Jon moved forward, swinging his sword at the dead thing on the ground, but it was blocked by his spear. He pushed Jon back, and he took several steps away. He watched in horror as he reached up and broke the other dire wolf’s neck with one hand  
  
“Ghost!” Jon called and the wolf released him and moved away, fear for his own wolf causing him to lose the advantage that he’d had. A few of the other wolves were killed with his spear. He advanced on the Night King once more, Ghost circling around behind him and head-butted him in the back, sending the Night King forward into Jon’s sword which plunged through his heart, a thick chunk of dragon glass being expelled through his back.

The Night King’s form began to change, the iciness of his skin, the bluish tint, disappearing and leaving behind pink in its place. Jon removed his sword watched as the Night King fell to his knees, and finally looked up at Jon. He was unsure of what was happening, but he wouldn’t take any chances and swung his sword to remove his head.

Jon tried to take a deep breath, only it was growing more and more difficult as the moments passed. He felt weak, as if his entire body was near to giving out. The rush of the battle, now that the Night King had fallen was over, the dead had stopped moving, and he could feel exhaustion and worry seeping from his bones. Two loud thumps sounded behind him and he turned into Daenerys arms, his sword falling to the ground beside him.  
  
“Jon!” She sank to the ground. “Jon, keep looking at me. Don’t close your eyes!”

He raised a hand to her face and brushed away a tear. The storm that had raged at the Night King’s invasion had ceased and now soft snowflakes fell to the ground as the sun began to peak out over the horizon. The sky was almost red from flame and blood, but all he could see was her silver hair and bright violet eyes. He never thought her to be more beautiful, thankful she had survived. “Is that an order, my queen?”

She frowned. “Yes. And if you disobey it, I’ll kill you,” she said briskly. “I can’t lose you, too. I won’t survive that.”

He smiled sadly. He knew her strength, and though she might not want to continue on without him, she could do it. “You would.”

She looked him over. “Where…where are you injured?”

“My chest. I can’t breathe.”

Her grip on him slackened a bit. “Am I holding you too tight?”

He nodded. “Yes. But don’t stop.” He gripped her hand that rested over his heart and she winced. "Are you injured?"  
  
She placed a kiss on his lips as her tears continued to fall. "I'll be fine as long as you live."  
  
Jon groaned as he shifted, trying to get more comfortable, but the pain that moved through his body caused him to close his eyes. And from Daenerys's reaction, for probably too long.

She rested her forehead against his. “I swear to all the Gods, Jon Snow, that if you leave me I’ll come into the afterlife and punish you for all eternity.”

He shook his head. “I have no intention of leaving you, my queen.”

“Not your queen. Your love,” she whispered.

They were soon joined by Ser Davos, Tyrion, and Maester Wolken. She was reluctant to let Jon go, but as they brought out a makeshift stretcher and loaded Jon onto it, several men carried him into the keep, with Daenerys and her dragons following. She did keep the dragons outside the gates, not allowing them to come into the courtyard to frightened everyone.  Jon looked over at Davos. “How many did we lose?”

“No way to tell yet, your grace.”

“My family?” He asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

He looked down at the ground. “Arya was injured, but she’s been moved to her room and Gendry is with her as well as Samwell Tarly. When last I saw Lady Sansa, she was going to tend to Arya. Bran has been moved inside the keep. The dead, he said, were not able to penetrate the Godswood and he’s the one who sent us to find you and told us that you needed help.”

Jon leaned his head back. “What’s Arya’s injury?”

“One to her shoulder and one to her leg. She’s being well cared for, I assure you. You should rest,” Davos said as they entered the keep and he was taken to his room. Jon felt entirely too exhausted to notice that the men and women in the courtyard went to their knee as he passed.


	32. Daenerys VI

**DAENERYS**

 

Daenerys held her arm close to her. Now that the fighting was over, she could feel her arm throbbing. She knew she needed to have the Maester look it over, but she wanted to see that Jorah’s body was properly handled. She found two of her Dothraki and bid them to follow her. There was still so much smoke on the field. She found him near the fallen Viscerion and knelt in the snow beside his fallen form. She reached out and closed his eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see a crying Messandei.

 

She nodded to the two Dothraki and gave them orders to construct a pyre for him, to give him the hero’s send-off he deserved. She had them take his body from the field and they did as their Khaleesi ordered. When they were gone, she turned to Messandei and embraced the other woman, though she moaned at jostling her arm. The dark-haired woman frowned. “You’re injured,” she said as she began to escort Daenerys back to the keep.

 

They were silent on the way and she finally asked. “Any word?” she asked her friend and she saw the fresh onslaught of tears.

 

“He fell,” she said through a sob and Daenerys cried with her, bringing her into another embrace.

  
“I’m so sorry, my friend,” she said. “Truly.”

 

Messandei pulled back and shook her head. “I knew the risk. He knew the risk,” she said finally. “It doesn’t make the loss any easier to take.”

 

She took a deep breath. “What can I give you?”

 

Messandei smiled weakly. “You’ve given me my freedom, your grace, which allowed me to find love. I need nothing more than that.”  She looked to the ground, her careful mask of duty falling back into place. “We should get you to your room and seen by a Maester.”

 

She shook her head. “I’m going to be with Jon,” she replied.

 

Messandei nodded and walked with Daenerys to Jon’s room to find Ghost laying in front of the door. She could hear voices coming from inside and she knocked. Davos opened the door. She entered and Messandei was at her side. Ghost followed them in and settled at the foot of the bed. She could see Jon with his eyes closed and she nearly panicked until she realized he was breathing.

 

“Is he alright?”

 

The Maester nodded. “Yes. With a lot of rest, he should be fine.”

 

Daenerys closed her eyes for a moment and allowed it to sink in. She wasn’t going to lose him. “What’s wrong with him?”

 

“He has four broken ribs on his left side and three on his right,” the Maester explained. “I’ve given him milk of the poppy to help him with the pain and to allow him to relax.”

 

Davos looked at her as she held her arm. “Are you injured?”

 

She nodded. “My arm.”

 

“I ask that you remove your outer cloak, your grace and have a seat in the chair,” he said as he urged her to sit. Messandei helped her with the laces and soon she stood in a grey pair of leathers, one of Jon’s tunics and her boots.  She sat on the chair and the Maester moved over to her and rolled the sleeve up and she winced to see the swollen bruise that graced her forearm. Worst still was when he touched it, she realized the bone wasn’t aligned. “It’s broken, your grace,” the Maester said. He walked to the table beside Jon’s bed and then handed her a small vial. “A small dose of Milk of the Poppy and I’ll need to set your arm.”

 

“Maybe you should go ahead and settle on the bed, your grace,” Messandei supplied. If Davos or Maester Wolken were surprised by the forwardness of the suggestion, neither said anything. “Milk of the Poppy will make you tired.”

 

Daenerys nodded and moved to the bed and took the vial from the Maester. She drank it down and at the Maester’s suggestion, she lay back. Jon was asleep beside her, but she reached out and took his hand with her good one. Davos handed her a leather strap. “Put it between your teeth, your grace.”

 

She did as he suggested. The Maester had laid out linens and a piece of wood. “I’m going to splint your arm when I put it back into place so the bone doesn’t move,” he explained. She nodded and closed her eyes. She felt the man’s hand on her arm and suddenly a pain only rivaled by the actual break itself shot through her arm when he put the bone back and she screamed against the leather strap in her mouth. Daenerys couldn’t keep the tears from streaming down her face, though she tried. The Maester tied her arm to the splint and then helped her to sit up to wrap her arm in a sling.

 

A knock sounded at the door. Daenerys used the sleeve of her tunic to dry her tears and then nodded for Messandei to open the door. Tyrion entered the room and heaved a sigh. “Your grace. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see you,” he said softly. He looked at those gathered in the room and the sleeping form of Jon Snow. “If you would, please allow me a moment alone with our queen.”

 

The Maester bowed his head and turned to Daenerys. “I’ll be in the hall tending to the wounded if you need me. Try to get some rest,” he said before he left.

 

Davos and Messandei left the room as well and Tyrion took up the chair she had abandoned in favor of the bed. She was starting to feel the effects of the contents of the vial and leaned back against the headboard. “I’ve been given Milk of the Poppy. I suggest you talk fast.”

 

“I had little hope going into this war. Little hope that you or...Jon would survive. Once again, you’ve proven that my lack of hope was ill-advised.”

 

She smiled. “I’m so glad we proved you wrong.”

 

“You have. Over and over again.” He heaved a sigh. “Once you and the King in the North are feeling up to it, I would wager that there is to be a wedding?”

 

She leveled a look at him. “What is it you want to know, Tyrion? If we are formally engaged or if you can start planning for our eventual march south?”

 

“Both, actually. Will he be going south with you?”

 

She glanced at Jon and frowned. “He won’t leave Winterfell until he is truly healed. And neither will I.”

 

He nodded. “Good. It should give us enough time to sway the Northron Lords and Ladies to our side...”

 

She closed her eyes. “Tyrion, I’m entirely too tired and in too much pain to have this conversation now. Make plans. We’ll talk about them...days from now.”

 

He smiled. “Of course, your grace.”

 

He climbed from the chair and went to the door, but her voice stopped him. “Tyrion?”

 

“How is your brother? Did he survive?”

 

Tyrion frowned and nodded. “He did. But he’s injured and has not yet regained consciousness. Lady Brienne informed me that he absorbed a hit from a White Walker’s staff with his gold hand, which shattered. I believe he also has a broken arm. Samwell Tarly was going in as I was leaving his room.”

 

She was silent for a moment. “Do not visit this room again until I call for you. Take care of your brother and our army. Make sure they’re well cared for while I heal.”

 

He nodded. “Of course, your grace.”

 

“Make sure the Dothraki are posted outside the room,” she answered and he nodded again and left. She turned to look at Jon and could see the purpling of a bruise forming on his chest. She used her good hand and ran her fingers over it, then smoothed his dark hair back from his face. She shifted on the bed to lay beside him and took his hand in hers once more. She crawled beneath the furs, longing to rest her head on his chest, to hear his heartbeat beneath her ear, but knew it would cause him pain. Instead, she lay on her side and stared at him until finally the pain draught took over and she drifted to sleep.


	33. Arya VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fallout from battle as Arya faces the fact that she's not as invincible as she thought.

**ARYA**

 

Gendry had helped her into the castle as she had insisted that he not carry her. But the walk up the stairs was taking too long and she felt weaker with every step. Gendry, sensing this, put his hands beneath her knees and carried her along the corridor. “I can walk.”

 

“Not fast enough,” he mumbled and she pointed to the door of her room and he kicked it open with his boot. He placed her on the bed and went about removing her boots and her jerkin. The wound in her right shoulder ached even though Gendry was careful not to hurt her. He tossed the bloody armor to the ground followed by her tunic and covered her chest with a fur, then went about ridding her of her leathers.

 

“Of all the ways I pictured you undressing me, this was not what I had in mind,” she said weakly, though he didn’t smile at her jest. He was focused on the task at hand. He cut her leathers just below where he had tied her leg off and tossed it to the floor. A knock on the door alerted them to someone else and she looked to see Jon’s friend, Sam.

 

“I might be of some assistance,” he said as he came into the room, while Gendry made sure the knot in the belt above the wound in her leg was tight enough. Sam placed a basket beside her on the bed. “Which is your sword arm?”

 

“Left,” she responded.

 

“Lucky you,” he said as he rolled her slightly in the bed to make sure there wasn’t an exit wound through the back. He began to pack the wound with linen and looked at Gendry.  Hold this here until I can get her stitched up. I think this wound in her leg is a bit more dire. Gendry put pressure on the cloth on her shoulder and watched Sam examined her leg. She winced as he poked around and let out a sigh when she felt him stop. “Nothing major seems to have been hit,” he said and Arya didn’t know if he was talking to them or himself. “Some Milk of the Poppy should help while I clean and sew up these wounds.”

  
“Arya!” Sansa said as she entered the room and took her good hand on the other side of the bed. “Are you alright?”

 

“Not the first time I’ve been stabbed,” she said, with a slight smile, uncomfortable with how serious the tone was in the room.

 

Sam held a vial out to Sansa. “Help her take this, please,” he said as he removed a needle and thread. “I’m going to stitch the muscle inside, then work on closing the skin inside.”

 

Arya allowed Sansa to help her drink the liquid and she settled back against the pillows. Gendry still wasn’t looking at her and it was starting to make her angry. Instead, he watched Sam as began stitching the wound. The needle felt hot as it pierced her skin, but she didn’t make a sound. Arya turned to Sansa, feeling tired though she was trying to block out the pain. She wouldn’t give into it. She wouldn’t feel it if she could avoid it. “How’s Jon?”

 

“Injured. I don’t know to what extent.”

 

“And Daenerys?”

 

“Injured as well, but not bad. She was still walking around outside with her advisor and some of the Dothraki. I believe she was tending to Ser Jorah. He fell.”

 

Gendry’s expression changed and it looked sad, as did Sam. “I hate to hear that. Ser Jorah was a good man. I met him at my time in the Citadel. He had Greyscale.” All three of them turned their attention to him, and Arya wondered how could anyone be so selfish as to put themselves around other people when they had that horrible disease. Sam seemed to realize that he was being watched and then smiled at him. “He was cured.”

 

Sansa frowned. “There isn’t a cure for it.”

 

“There is, my lady. If a person is willing to perform it and the patient willing to accept it. Ser Jorah was willing, and so I did,” he said as he went back to stitching up the wound.

 

“Why did you help him?” Arya mumbled.

 

Sam heaved a sigh. “His father was our Lord Commander. He was a good man and was killed because he had honor. It was horrific. But your brother...er, cousin?”

 

Sansa and Arya both answered together. “Brother.” Sansa smiled down at Arya.

 

“Right,” Sam smiled as well. “Your brother led a group beyond the wall to seek justice for his death. He was victorious. His sword came from Lord Commander Mormont. Though, when he had it, there was a bear on the pommel, not a wolf.”

 

Sansa reached for a linen and handed it to him when he completed stitching her leg. Sam wrapped it as Arya spoke. “What else can you tell us about Jon’s time on the wall?”

 

Sam smiled. “He helped us. The new ones. I suppose you can imagine that I wasn’t going to be the best member of the Night’s Watch. But Jon helped me. He was the first friend I made while there. We’ve lost a lot,” he said and ushered Gendry out of the way in order to work on her shoulder. “Ser Alliser Thorne hated him. Made his life miserable at every opportunity. Instead of making Jon a Ranger, which is what should have happened, he made him a Steward to Commander Mormont. I’m the one that nominated him to be our new Lord Commander. When the Wildling army attacked the wall, Jon led us after Ser Alliser was injured.” He cleaned the wound and went to work sewing it up. “He was the commander we turned to when the night was darkest.”

 

Arya sighed as she listened to the stories about Jon. She knew that all had stories to tell and that if Sam hadn’t told all of this, they probably never would have heard it. How much did they not know about one another? It caused her to look at Gendry who sat at the foot of her bed and watched Sam. What had he been through, endured? She knew parts of it. But there was more to him than that. There was something there that would require exploration and years of getting to know one another.

 

But now, as Sam finished with the last stitch to her shoulder and wrapped the linen around it, she felt exhausted. Sam smiled at her one last time. “I’m going to tend to some of the others. If you need anything I’ll be in the hall,” he said as he packed up his items and left the room, Gendry saying something to him and then closing the door behind him.

 

Sansa still sat beside her on the bed, her hands still wrapped around hers. “Gendry, would you mind giving me a moment alone with my sister?”

 

He shook his head and finally turned his blue eyes to look into Arya’s. “I’m going to fetch my hammer and your sword. I’ll be back shortly,” he said with a nod and closed the door behind him as he left.

 

“He’s acting strangely.”

 

Sansa was silent for a moment and then sighed. “I suppose he is. You were stabbed, injured in front of him. That would make anyone act strangely.”

 

She sighed. “It was a fluke. I got rushed by four at a time.”

 

“You’re lucky.”

 

Arya shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe,” she said. “Still have two dragons?”

 

She nodded. “Yes. They’re still...roaming around outside.”

 

“Good,” she said softly. “They’ll be helpful when we go to King’s Landing.”

 

“ _We_?” Sansa asked incredulously.

 

Arya frowned. “You’re not going to get protective now, are you?”

 

“Arya, you’ve been stabbed. Twice.”

 

“Not the first time."

 

“I would like it if it were the last,” she whispered. “You could have died. If not from being swarmed, then from losing so much blood. You must realize that.”

 

“I do. I’m not afraid of death.”  


Sansa scowled at her. “Maybe I’ve had my fill of losing my family. We only just reunited. You and I actually have something close to a relationship that is meaningful, after all that’s happened to us. I’m not ready to lose you.”

 

Arya frowned. “You won’t.”

 

Sansa shook her head and released her hand. “You can’t leave, Arya. I need you here...”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I love you and I don’t want your reckless disregard for yourself to take you from me.”

 

Arya stopped at that and closed her eyes momentarily. “I love you, too, Sansa.”

 

“Then, please, when they go South, stay here. Help be my shield.”

 

She looked at her sister and could see the fear in her bright blue eyes. She remembered Bronn’s words about teaching her how to fight and wondered, for a moment, if maybe that would be her purpose. Jon and Daenerys would ride south and would no doubt be successful against Cersei. She’d spent so much of her life trying to get back home, trying to find a family to latch onto and replace her own, that now faced with her sister begging her to stay, she realized she was probably better to stay and ensure that Sansa was safe. Brienne could teach her how to use a sword if she desired, but Arya knew she needed Sansa as much as she needed Jon, Bran, and Gendry.

 

“What if I taught you how to shield yourself?”

 

“Whatever would keep you here,” she whispered.

 

Arya nodded. “I’ll think about it,” she said softly and felt Sansa take her hand again. “Milk of the Poppy is better than any wine. We should have it for dinner, sometimes.”

 

Sansa chuckled. “I’ll leave you to rest,” she said as she stood from the bed and turned to Arya. “You realize that you’ll need to refrain from any sort of...physical activity for a while, don’t you?”

 

Arya smirked. “I’ve still got a good hand,” she said with a laugh at the scandalous look upon her sister’s face. “Go away and let me rest. And send Gendry back,” she said even as she felt her eyes closing. “Maybe you should go see how the other fighters are doing. Might be that Ser Jaime needs your help.”

 

Sansa frowned. “I regret telling you that.”

 

Arya laughed. “I’m sure you do. Now, leave me and send in Gendry.”

 

*~*

 

She didn’t know when she fell asleep, but when she woke, her leg was throbbing and she looked down at the hands untying the belt from around her leg. She looked up to see Maester Wolken who smiled down at her. “Samwell Tarly did a wonderful job with the stitching, but I believe we can remove the tourniquet,” he said. She glanced around the room and found Gendry standing at the foot of the bed, his arms folded over his chest. He’d changed clothes, no longer wearing the heavy jerkin and shoulders he’d worn during battle. Instead, it was a light brown leather that seemed to make his blue eyes sparkle.

 

The feeling of blood rushing through her limb caused her to gasp as it felt like she was being pricked by a thousand needles along her skin. She hated the feeling more than she could describe, but the Maester smiled up at her after a moment. “A very good job on these stitches. You’re not bleeding terribly,” he said as he wrapped her leg once more. “I’ve brought more Milk of the Poppy should the pain grow too much to bear, but try to resist taking it if possible.”

 

Arya nodded and the Maester stood. “How’s Jon?”

 

“The King is resting in his room. He has several broken ribs, but none puncturing a lung, which is a blessing. Other than that, a few minor scratches, scrapes and bruises. The Queen is taking good care of him, though her arm is broken.”

 

Arya sighed. “And Bran?”

 

“I last saw him speaking with Lord Tyrion Lannister,” he responded. “Well guarded by the Northron men,” he assured. She rested back against her pillow then looked over his shoulder at Gendry. “As are you, my lady.”

 

“He’s not Northron,” she answered and turned her eyes to Gendry.

 

The Maester smiled at her. “Get some rest, and I think we’ll try to have you up and walking around a bit by tomorrow.”

 

Arya nodded and the older man left. Gendry stayed at the foot of the bed, his eyes burning into hers. He almost looked angry at her. “Why are you so far away?”

 

“You’re injured,” he responded.

 

She nodded and patted the bed with her good hand. He rolled his eyes and joined her. When he was lying back against the other pillow, she moved closer to him and rested her head over his heart. “What’s the matter?”

 

He turned on his side to face her, causing her head to drop back to her pillow. “You almost died.”

 

She smiled. “ _Almost_.”

 

He found her hand and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Still. I watched you bleed. I saw those dead things swarm you and for a moment...everything was gone.”

 

The smile left her face and she frowned. “We all knew what we were getting into.”

 

He nodded. “We did. I had made peace with the fact that I might die. Almost expected it, really. And I was fine with that because I knew you were going to live and fight on,” he heaved a sigh. “I never pictured a world without you,” he whispered.

 

She shook her head. “I’m here. I’m alive.”

 

“Yes,” he said with a smile. “Five stabs wounds now, is it?”  She nodded. “Five too many, in my opinion. I hate seeing you hurt.”

 

“I don’t much like either,” she said and he dropped his head to her shoulder. “Better than the alternative, though.”

 

“Can you not get stabbed again in the future?” he questioned and wrapped an arm around his waist.

 

She chuckled. “I didn’t plan on this time...but I’ll do my best.”

 

He nodded and placed a kiss on her uninjured shoulder. “Good.” He rested his head on the pillow beside hers. “How are you feeling?”

 

“It hurts, but it’s not horrific. Mostly tired.”

 

“I can leave and let you get some sleep,” he offered but he made no attempts to move.

 

She shook her head. “No. I would have you stay with me,” she said as she pushed him onto his back and moved into his arms. He toed off his boots and settled beside her. The room was silent save for the crackle of the logs on the fire. She was nearly asleep when she said his name and got a soft moan in response. “You love me, right?”

 

“Yes. Stupid fool that I am is in love with you.”

 

She smiled, her eyes still closed. “If they let me up to move around tomorrow, we’re having sex.”

 

He chuckled. “Are we?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“We’ll see.”

 

“Don’t try to deflect me,” she ordered, but there was no bite to her tone.

 

“You’re injured. I’m not going to risk further injuring you because you can’t wait a few days.”

 

“It’s your fault.” She sighed. “Besides, you promised to _kiss_ me.”

 

She could hear the smile in his voice. “I did, didn’t I?”

 

She nodded. “I expect you to do as I bid.”

 

“As m’lady commands.” When she didn’t say anything he looked down at her. “No comment?”

 

Arya smiled and shook her head. “I like when _you_ call me _m’lady_. I know it means more. So I’ll let you,” she whispered.

 

He leaned his head against hers and she could feel herself drifting off once more, dreams of battles and the sun drifting through her mind.

  



	34. Sansa VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tends to a patient and has company for breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while since we heard from ole Sansa, hasn't it?

  


**SANSA**

 

She flipped the page of the book she had been reading but didn’t see any words.  She had tried to play the good lady of the keep and had looked in at all the injured, most of which had been lined up in the hall on cots and furs. It was still cold in the north.

 

Even though the dead had marched on their land, dragons had flown overhead, and enemies had fought together to defeat the Night King and his army, she didn’t understand what had happened between Jon and the Night King.  All she really needed to know was that the threat was gone, at least from the North. Now, they only had to worry about Cersei which was actually just as scary in her mind.

 

And while Sansa had helped the maids serve food and tend to smaller wounds of the soldiers who had fought, she continued to find herself in Jaime’s room.  The bone in his arm had shattered and the Maester had caused him a great deal of pain to set it.  Even a bit of surgery had been performed to get the larger fragments together.  She’d assisted, only because the maids had been occupied with other people and Sam had been tending to Jon and Daenerys.  She had administered Milk of the Poppy so his pain lessened and he slept through most of it. She’d seen enough bad things in the world that watching the Maester piece together bone hadn’t bothered her as much as she thought. She’d been the one to sew his arm together as she was proficient with a needle.  Never in her wildest imaginings would Sansa have thought she would use such a skill to tend to wounds.

 

But now, when the castle was silent, she found herself seated at Jaime’s bedside, a book on her lap as she waited for him to wake up.  She checked his bandage to confirm that the wound wasn’t still bleeding, and then settled into the chair once more.  She wandered the room and even poked the fire. She knew she should be back in her own room, ignoring whatever it was that kept her rooted to her place at his bedside. Sansa looked back at the words on the page and they seemed to blur together.

 

A groan sounded from the bed and she closed the book to put it on his bedside table.  He turned to look at her and his eyes met hers. He blinked several times and winced as he moved his arm but she was on her feet to settle him.  “Don’t move. Whatever happened to your arm broke the bones. The Maester did surgery to try to repair it. We’ll know in a few more days if you’ll lose your arm.”

 

“So, that’s what the horrible pain is,” he muttered.

 

“Milk of the Poppy,” she said as she sat on the bed beside him and uncorked the small vial.  “If you take _all_ of this, you’ll go to sleep and never wake up.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Should I trust you to administer it?”

  
“I’ve had days to kill you, and I haven’t done it, yet.  You’re safe,” she said as she held it up for him to take. She helped him rise a bit to bring it to his lips.  He lay back on the pillows and she recorked the bottle and placed it on the table once more.

 

“I take it we won,” he said as he looked around at the room which was illuminated by the fire in the hearth.

 

“Not without some loss, but yes.  The Night King is dead.”

 

“Brienne?”

  
She smiled softly.  “Alive. She’s...I know the two of you have a strange bond...she’s come to check on you several times, but most of her day has been spent trying to keep Tormund from aggravating his head wounds. She’s avoided him for a very long time, but he saved her life on the battlefield and it appears as if she’s now willing to give him a chance.”

 

He heaved a sigh and nodded.  “She deserves to be happy.  A Wildling is a surprise, though.”

 

Sansa smiled.  “It surprised her as well, I think. She’ll be glad to know you’re awake.”

 

“Your brother? And Daenerys?”

 

“Both alive, miraculously.”

 

“Why miraculously?”

 

She frowned. “Jon was kicked in the chest by the Night King and broke several of his ribs. He was having a rather difficult time breathing. Daenerys fell from the dragon when he landed but only has a broken arm, though not as severe as yours.”

 

“Who did we lose?” He turned his eyes away from her. “How many?”

 

At that, she frowned. “Beric Dondarrion. Ser Jorah. Bronn,” she said finally and looked down at her hands. “Your brother is overseeing his funeral pyre.” She then frowned at seeing the saddened look on his face. “And we still won’t know exact numbers for a few days.”

 

Jaime closed his eyes and she watched as a tear slipped down his face. “I failed him. Bronn”

 

She sighed. “Tyrion said all he wanted was to die in a castle with a woman’s...” she blushed, “well, you get the idea. I hate he didn’t get it.”

 

Jaime swiped at the tears with his good hand but felt his body shift uncomfortably as he moved. “Anything else I should know?”

 

“Tyrion has been by your side during the day.  He loathes to leave you,” she said, hoping her words brought him comfort. “Daenerys issued an order from Jon’s chamber that he must seek rest or she’d feed him to Drogon.”

 

He smiled at that and then looked over at her. He looked weary and she didn’t know why, but she hated it. Her conversation with Arya about Jaime had left her more confused than with actual answers. She didn’t like being unsure. She didn’t like feeling as if she was spinning out of control. She especially hated that it only seemed to be where he was concerned. By all rights, she should hate the very air he breathed. He nearly killed her little brother. But he had also saved her life in the very recent future. He’d come North to offer his help and nearly lost his life. When he spoke, though, his question caught her off-guard. “Why are you here?”

 

She shrugged and gave a vague answer that wasn’t _actually_ an answer to his question. “I’m having a terrible time sleeping. I only think about the war and what we could have lost.”

 

“Your faith pulled you through,” his voice was soft, yet full of understanding.

 

She had proclaimed herself to be without hope, yet time and time again, it sprang into her treasonous heart. She shook her head. “No, it was more than that. It was men fighting for us. Men I treated horribly when they only came to our aid,” she looked down at her hands, unable to look him in the eye again. She’d prided herself on being able to maintain eye contact with people, even under heavy scrutiny. To turn away was a weakness.

 

Jaime was silent for a moment and then tilted his head and whispered. “Maybe it was deserved.”

 

“It was.” She agreed and forced herself to look at him again. “But I was raised to be a lady of the keep and above such pettiness.”

 

He smirked. “I’m a knight with one hand. We all have our flaws.”

 

She chuckled and shook her head. “I’m glad you lived.”

 

“You don’t still want my head?”

 

She shook her head in response. “I like it much better on your shoulders,” she whispered. “Thank you.  I know I was horrible to you, with good reason, but I was. I’m so-”

 

He interrupted her. “You don’t need to apologize.”

 

“I don’t need to, but I am. I’m sorry.” She looked down at the furs that covered his chest and she smiled at him. “You did surprise me,” she said softly.

 

“You can be wrong. It gives me faith in the world,” he teased. “I take it your opinion of me has changed?”

 

She nodded. “That would be true.” The silence hung between them for a few moments and then she stood. “You should get some sleep.”

 

“Are you leaving?” he asked.

 

She stared down at him and gave him a soft smile. “You need rest, Ser Jaime.”

 

“Jaime is fine,” he responded.

 

She smiled.  “You can still call me Lady Sansa,” she said before she grabbed her book and left his room.  She closed the door behind her and leaned against the stone wall of the castle, feeling her heart thudding in her chest.  She was sure that everyone could hear it as she felt the blood rushing through her ears.  

 

*~*

 

Sansa was seated in the hall the following morning. She was tired and worried. She knew Arya would do what she wanted, but the thought of her going off to another battle to fight made her sick.

 

“Good morning, _wife_ ,” Tyrion said with a slight smile that was hidden beneath his beard. “You look lovely as always.”

 

“ _Husband_ ,” she teased back. There was something familiar about bantering with Tyrion. “I hate your beard,” she said before she took a sip of her tea.

 

He smiled as he sat beside her. “As I recall, you didn’t care for much about me. Why should the beard be any different.”

 

She shrugged. “Different circumstances.”

 

They were both silent then and Tyrion turned to Sansa, his eyes boring into her. “How is my brother?”

 

She placed her spook beside her bowl and turned to meet Tyrion’s eyes. “He was awake. But I don’t know if I like the insinuation of your tone.”

 

He shook his head. “My lady, if you read something into it maybe it’s a guilty conscience rather than anything I said.”

 

She furrowed her brow and turned to face him fully, her anger rising. “What is it you think I should feel guilty for?”

 

He took a sip of wine and made a face. “Sansa, I truly didn’t mean anything by my comment. Simply asking about my brother. I heard you have been going to see him...”

 

“So, what if I am?”

 

“Nothing. He saved your life, you helped to save his arm. I think it would be only natural for you to check in on him since you did sew him up.”

 

She knew Tyrion well enough to know that he wasn’t speaking the truth. In fact, she could see that he was lying to her and he did mean something by it, but she wouldn’t grace him with another comment. He was looking for something and she wouldn’t give it to him. “How is the queen?”

 

“She ordered me to leave my brother’s side for fear I would die of exhaustion and to not come see her unless she asks. So, I would say she’s on the mend.”

 

Sansa leaned back in her seat and sighed. “I like her.”

 

Tyrion smiled. “Once you get past the fire-breathing dragons, the horde of Dothraki, and the past of her family, she’s rather likable.”

 

“How did you come to be in her service?”

 

He sighed. “After Joffrey’s death for which I was imprisoned, Shae testified in front of everyone that you and I had conspired to kill Joffrey,” Sansa’s jaw hardened and she looked away from him. “Jaime saved me before I could be executed after my trial by combat scheme failed. I killed my father, I killed Shae, and Varys and I left for Essos. He’d been planning to back her for a while and he thought I should meet her.”

 

Sansa shook her head. “I’m sorry about Shae. I trusted her.”

 

“As did I, my lady,” he said softly.

 

“I know she was your mistress,” she admitted. “Not until I looked back on it later, but I know, now. She was too familiar with you and you with her. It’s amazing how so much of it made sense after that. But she did try to protect me numerous times. She was never harsh or unkind to me. I hate she turned on you.”

 

Tyrion finished the wine in his goblet. “Yes, well, I suppose it was a mistake to send her away angry with me, but I didn’t know any other way of making her leave. She was in danger. Cersei was looking for a way to hurt me. She could no longer hurt you, she needed a new target.”

 

Sansa shook her head. “What do you think the chances are the Jon and Daenerys defeat Cersei?”

 

“They just defeated an undead monster, have two dragons, and they’re alive. I would say the possibilities are extremely high.”

 

“I don’t want them to go.”

 

“But they must,” he insisted. “Cersei will never allow them to stay alive. They’re too much of a threat, especially now. When word starts hitting the rest of this country, people will begin to turn to the Targaryens in the North. Especially once they're wed.” He sighed. “I think they temper each other, well.”

 

Sansa smiled. “I thought it was your job to temper her.”

 

“Believe me, my lady, it takes more than one person. In fact, once we heard that we’d lost High Garden, she was going to take her three dragons to the Red Keep and burn everyone inside. She wouldn’t listen to me or Varys. But your brother convinced her not to go; a different approach. She could have taken the Red Keep when she arrived in Westeros, but she cares about what happens to her people. Jon cares about what happens to people. They’re a good match in that way.”

 

“Which one of them sits on the Iron Throne?”

 

“Both,” he answered, “as equals.”

 

“And how would that work, exactly?”

 

Tyrion sighed. “I’m still working out the details. But she won’t go without him and he without her. They’re united.”

 

“Not in the way that will matter to people.”

 

“Ah, yes, a wedding. I believe that is in our very near future. He has officially asked her, at least.”

 

She shook her head. “I can’t imagine Jon getting married.”

 

“This will actually be Daenerys’s third, but the first to a man she actually loves. She’s a lot like you, actually. The first she married for her family’s sake. Sold to the Khal in exchange for his army. You were...not sold, but we were married because it was a strategic move for my father to try to control the North. She then married a high lord in Mereen to try to keep the peace. You married Ramsay Bolton to do the same, essentially.”

 

“I was sold.”

 

“Again, you have a lot in common,” he said sadly. “Yet, you’ve both managed to keep your wits about you and do what is necessary for you to survive. This will be the first marriage Daenerys actually wants.”

 

Sansa frowned. “I’m sorry for all she endured.”

 

Tyrion nodded. “As am I. However, I think everything she experienced made her strong. Much like you. You’re not the girl who cowered away from Joffrey. In fact, now, I believe you _would_ have poisoned Joffrey, if not worse. No one will ever take advantage of you again, my lady. That is a very good thing, for you may be one of the best players of the game I have ever seen.”

 

“I’m a slow learner,” she said softly and followed with, “ _but I do learn_. How much of my life was destroyed by Littlefinger?”

 

“A lot. But he’s dead. Seems to me, the only enemies you have left alive are my vicious cunt of a sister and possibly my brother.”

 

She shook her head. “Jaime is not my enemy.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “So, you don’t still want his head?”

 

She sighed. “No. It’s almost painful to say. Why shouldn’t I want him dead? He nearly killed Bran.”

 

He frowned. “That he did. But I know my brother well enough that I can say it’s something he regrets. He’s done a lot of horrible things where my sister is concerned. But he is an honorable man. At least, he wants to be. I think, in the world that we’re building, we should allow those who want honor to seek it.”

 

She shook her head and then smiled. “Some things don’t change. I’m very happy to see that you haven’t lost your ability to talk in circles.”

 

He chuckled. “Well, we can’t let everything change. I’ll remain the drunk Hand and you the icy Lady of Winterfell.”

 

He held up his glass to her and she clinked hers off his. “I’ll go along with that.”


	35. Jon VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon wakes up, Dany has a bath, and...shenanigans...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No worries fearless readers. I am still going to update this as I always do. I got sidetracked this morning putting food on. But here you go. It's sort of the sappy, romance stuff, but hell, they just came out of a war! I think they deserve a bit of it. Jaime and Gendry are next.

**JON**

 

When he opened his eyes and tried to take a deep breath he felt the pain shoot throughout his body, centered in his chest. He felt drunk, almost, but the heaviness in his head made him realize that it wasn’t from drink. Milk of the Poppy he assumed. He felt a slight pressure on his hand and turned his head to see Daenerys sleeping beside him.

 

Her arm was bandaged even as it rested beside his shoulder as she slept on her side facing him. He was relieved to see her, knowing what had been at stake and what they stood to lose. But here she was, sleeping peacefully wearing what appeared to be one of his tunics. He would never complain about that.

 

Her eyes opened slowly and met his offering a smile. “Hello,” she said softly.

 

He smiled in response. “How are you?”

 

“Sore. I won’t ask how you are given the giant boot print on your chest,” she said, her brows furrowed together in concern.

 

He looked down and saw that she was telling the truth. “That would explain why it hurts to breathe.”

 

She maneuvered in the bed to sit up, which was made more difficult by the lack of use of her arm. “It could be worse,” she said, lightly fingering the scar that marred his chest. “But you’re still here.”

 

“Well, I do believe you ordered me not to die,” he said with a half smile. The one she gave him in response seemed to light up the room.

 

“I meant what I said, too. I’ll come after you,” she whispered.

 

“At least we’d be together.”

 

She shook her head and silence reigned. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and he basked in it and her closeness. Ghost the appeared standing beside the bed at Jon’s side and Daenerys startled at seeing his white fur marred in blood and dirt. Jon frowned. “He needs a bath,” he muttered.

 

“He’s not the only one,” she said softly. “Though, I think I’ll wait until morning.”

 

“I’ll watch,” he said with a smirk and she smiled down at him.

 

“And what if I decide that you need a bath.”

 

“Not up for moving much at the moment,” he said softly, though he would love nothing more than to luxuriate with her in a tub.

 

“I can bathe you,” she said and she leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. “Make everyone leave so I can run my hands all over you, with the pretense of getting you _thoroughly_ clean.”

 

He smirked. “Sounds like torture to me. You get to touch me but I can’t touch you?”

 

She frowned. “You have broken ribs. I can wait on my pleasure,” she said and then a smile broke onto her face, “or you can watch me seek it myself.”

 

He chuckled but then winced in pain as it wracked through his body. “Torture. That’s what it will be,” he said once he settled again.

 

Daenerys brushes her fingers through his hair and sighed. “I’m thankful that you’re still here.”

 

He nodded. “So am I.”

 

She leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips, but lingered as his hands came up to cup her face. Daenerys broke the kiss and snuggled into the bed beside him, careful not to jostle him too much. “Are you alright? Do you need more Milk of the Poppy?”

 

He saw the vial on the bedside table and reached for it. He uncorked it and only took down a bit, hoping to just take the edge off of the pain, before he put it back. Ghost was still sitting on the floor beside the bed looking at them. He gave him a scratch behind the ears, which seemed to placate the pup. He moved to lie back in front of the fire and nearly jumped at feeling Daenerys’s fingers brushing against his side.

 

“I think we should go back to sleep,” she suggested as she took Jon’s hand and stared up at the canopy. He nodded, feeling the effects of the drug. “Wonderful idea,” he said softly.

 

*~*

 

The next morning, Daenerys had requested a bath, leaving ample opportunity for those who wanted to see Jon and Daenerys come into the room as the bath was being drawn. Sansa was their first visitor. She stood at the foot of the bed while Jon stayed laying on his back and Daenerys was sitting beside him, almost fully dressed.

 

“You both look better. Not as pale,” she said with a smile.

 

Jon smiled at her. “How is everyone? Arya?”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Stubborn as ever. She refuses to admit she’s hurt. She actually needs a cane to walk,” Sansa shook her head, “she threw it at me. She got halfway down the corridor before she was out of breath and she reluctantly let Gendry carry her back to her room. I believe he might be the only person she hasn’t thrown out. I’m barred from seeing her until I can realize that she’s not _a weak, wilting flower that needs help_ I believe were her exact words.”

 

Daenerys smiled. “I really like your sisters,” she said and turned back to Sansa. “How is Ser Jaime? I’ve had to issue orders for him to rest and Tyrion not sit vigil by his bedside, which I’m sure he disobeyed.

 

Sansa nodded. “He’s healing well. The Maester doesn’t think he’ll lose the whole arm. In fact, because of the surgery he performed on Jaime, it looks like he might make a full recovery.”

 

Jon nodded. “Good.” Jon pushed himself up and Daenerys and Sansa both moved quickly to help him. It must have been the first time Sansa had actually seen the damage done to him by the Night King. “Let me assure you, it hurts worse than it looks.”

 

Sansa shook her head. “You’re both so stubborn,” she said under her breath.

 

Daenerys smiled. “It’s the blood of the dragon,” she muttered.

 

Sansa sighed. “And the wolf. Arya...is determined to go south with you when you go.”

 

Jon nodded. “I figured as much.”

  
“You would let her.”

 

Jon shook his head and sighed. “It’s not a matter of _letting_ her do anything. How would I stop her?”

 

“You could talk to her.”

 

He sighed. “Sansa, she’s a warrior. Yes, she’s also our little sister, but you have to respect her and what she is.”

 

Sansa frowned at sat at the edge of the bed and stared at her hands. “I nearly lost both of you in that battle. And now, you’re going south to fight Cersei.”

 

“Not anytime soon,” Daenerys tried to comfort her. “We have other matters that must be dealt with, first.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes and even as Daenerys moved in front of her and took her hands, she didn’t look up. “The Northron men will rally around you because you fought for them. No need to worry about that.”

 

Daenerys didn’t appear insulted at her tone, but her brows furrowed together and she looked at Jon. Suddenly, a smile formed on her face and he returned the smile She turned back to Sansa. “I was actually speaking about our wedding,” she glanced at Jon and he was transfixed by her. “It would be smarter if we went south already wed. Therefore there’s no divided loyalty between us amongst the people. We’ll take the throne together, as husband and wife.”

 

He smiled and nodded. “That’s right, Sansa. You’ll have to help us plan our wedding.”

 

She looked between the two of them and smiled brightly. “Really?”

 

Daenerys nodded. “You’ll have to check with the Maester about when Jon will be able to get up and move around, but I think we could set it for around that date.”

 

He winked at her, loving how brilliant her mind was. Sansa would have worried herself sick over their impending march south. Now she had a distraction.

 

“The Godswood?” Sansa questioned.

 

Daenerys smiled. “It would be my first wedding in the Godswood.”

 

He rolled his eyes at her teasing, knowing that her past lovers and husbands were not his favorite topic of conversation. However, he nodded to Sansa who stepped around Daenerys. “It will be beautiful! And Old God’s ceremony?”

 

Daenerys looked at Jon and tilted her head. “I don’t have much faith. I suppose I’ll have to rely on your Gods to bless our union.”

 

He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I believe, my queen, that they already have.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “If you two are going to start all of this sweet stuff, I’ll leave. I believe your bath is done.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “Would you send in Messandei? Also, you might want to consult with her. She knows my preferences in terms of dresses.”

 

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

 

The door closed and soon Messandei entered. She could tell she’d been crying and she stepped forward to hug her. Messandei hugged her back, then helped her remove her sling from around her neck and placed the bits of cloth along a table. She didn’t remove the bandages at her arm, however. Jon simply stood back and observed as Daenerys inquired about how Messandei was doing. She truly cared for the woman. He thought when he’d first met her, that she had freed people only to take them as her own servants. None of that could be further from the truth. They followed her because they believed in her.

 

Messandei helped her into the tub and then started the arduous task of washing her hair. The sound of them talking was enough to lull him into a sleepy doze. He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep when he opened his eyes to see Daenerys exiting the tub, water sliding over her naked body. He could see a bruise on her right side from her hitting the ground, but it looked faded as most of the outside of it was turning that sickly green color, but that meant it as healing. He didn’t know what was being said as she’d suddenly started speaking in one of the many other languages she knew to her handmaiden who smiled and nodded.

 

Her hair hung down her back in a wet tangle, but Messandei made a long simple braid to keep her hair back from her face and then left. Daenerys latched the door behind her and moved to the bed gloriously naked. He could feel himself stirring beneath the blankets as he knew that look in her eye all too well. She didn’t have her sling around her neck as she moved to the tub and picked up one of the dry flannels. She dipped it into the water and moved over to him. “Now, King Jon, I believe it’s time you’ve had your bath.”

 

She sat on the bed beside him and moved the cloth over his fingers and arm, examining each scar. He didn’t know if he would be able to make it through her entire torture plan as he was already hard and pressing insistently against his own belly. She skimmed gently over his chest and he tried to control his breathing. Any breath deeper than what he was doing now was painful, but it was almost impossible not to.

 

“Are you trying to kill me now?”

 

She shook her head with a smile and moved the furs off his legs. “Now, Jon Snow,” she said scandalized. “I believe you’re enjoying this.”

 

“More than you even know,” he replied and watched as she moved between his partially spread legs, allowing the cloth to move along each thigh. He closed his eyes, unable to watch her. She was torturing him. He loved and hated it in equal measure. He heard the cloth hit the floor and opened his eyes to see her take his cock in hand and stroke over it. He threw his head back against the headboard as he gripped the sheets beneath him.

 

“You’re always so generous with me,” she muttered. He started to open his eyes to ask what she meant by that when he felt her tongue flick over the head of his cock. He was certain he had stopped breathing altogether. She gathered the pooling moisture on his cock against her tongue and then took the head into her mouth.

 

“Fuck!” he grunted, unable to form any other words. Her eyes never left his as she licked and sucked in equal measure. It didn’t take long for him to get the familiar tightening in his balls. “Daenerys, stop!” he nearly shouted at her. But she didn’t stop, instead continued on and he felt himself release into her mouth, feeling the contraction of her throat against him. His body shook which caused him to hold his breath due to the pain. She pulled back and sat on her knees, delicately wiping her lips as she moved to lie beside him once more, tugging the furs over him.

 

She tilted her head with a smile. “When you do that for me, does it make you feel powerful?” He was beyond words and so he only nodded. “And vulnerable?” Again, he nodded. She looked over at him. “I like it.”

 

He nodded. “As soon as I’m able, I plan to spend days between your thighs.” The softness in her face had him tilting his head. “What?”

 

“We’re going to be married.”

 

He nodded. “I think we’ve been on that path since we met.”

 

She smirked. “Probably. Only, we might have been the only two fools who didn’t realize it. Tyrion told me you were in love with me long before we went to bed together.”

 

He captured her good hand and brought it to his lips. “That’s because I was.”

 

“For how long?”

 

He furrowed his brow. “I was attracted to you, but entirely frustrated by you, when we met. But I think I realized I was in deeper than I knew in the cave.”

 

She smiled. “That’s when I realized I wanted you,” she admitted. “You were standing there, staring me in the eye, continuing to defy me, and all I wanted was for you to be inside me. I realized I loved you when I saw you fall into the water beyond the wall. I’d lost Viscerion. The thought of losing you, too, shattered my already broken heart. Jorah kept trying to get me to leave Eastwatch, but I couldn’t believe that you would fall so easily. I had this hope burning in my chest, telling me to wait. But it started to die the longer I watched...” he reached up and brushed away the tears. “I finally turned away to leave...and then hope rose again at the sound of the horn.”  She captured his hand in hers. “I’ve always put my faith in myself. But now, I’ve put it in you as well. I have faith in you and I and that terrifies me!”

 

He nodded. “Me too,” he said with a sigh. “But, we’re better together. You’re a queen who fights for her people. You try to be fair and you realize that you have impulsive tendencies, which I do as well. Maybe we’re supposed to be together because who else besides us could survive what we had, put aside our differences, and come together to defeat the Night King? It had to be you and I. I couldn’t do it alone. Neither could you. It had to be us, together. And _together_ we will eliminate Cersei and find some way to unite this divided country.”

 

She moved up on her knees beside him and placed a kiss on his lips. “I love you,” she whispered. “More than I think I have a right to.”

 

He shook his head. “It’s you and I, Dany,” he said and she wrinkled her nose at the name but didn’t chastise him for it. “I’ll change the meaning of it. I’ll never use it against you or hurt you with the name. It will be only for you to know that I am blissfully in love with you.”

  
She looked down at his chest, then her eyes found him again to kiss him. “I agree to your terms, _my king_.”


	36. Jaime VII

**JAIME**

 

The funeral pyres were to be lit that morning. He’d heard from Tyrion that both the king and queen would attend, and it would be the first time that everyone had seen them since their defeat of the Night King. Jaime had insisted on going, to pay his last respects to Bronn, his fallen...friend. It was the only way he could think of him. He had been his friend. Maybe not a good one on some occasions. But he’d always been honest, even if honesty hurt. He’d punched him in the face more times than he’d liked. And he had been paid to be at his side. But he hoped there was something in him that at least liked Jaime. There had to be. Otherwise, he could have delivered his head to Cersei and been on his way.

 

He hadn’t done that. He’d gone to fight alongside Jaime, to protect him, to ensure that he got what was owed to him. Jaime couldn’t help but recall how he had cut Bronn’s head from his body as he had turned. He hadn’t wanted to do it, hoping to leave his body intact, but in the heat of battle, it had been the only option to keep him from killing Brienne.

 

A knock at his door and he looked up to see the aforementioned lady. She would hate him for thinking of her that way. She thought she was beyond titles like ‘lady’ or ‘woman’. He didn’t think it as an insult, but simply part of who he was. “Lady Sansa sent me to get you,” she said plainly and he saw that Pod wasn’t behind her.

 

“And where is Pod, your faithful squire?”

 

“He’s escorting the Lady. Her request.”

 

Jaime frowned and didn’t know why that had bothered him. But it had. It was a niggling feeling beneath his skin. He followed Brienne out of his room and down the stairs to the courtyard and the wall beyond. There were hundreds of pyres constructed, men, women, and children laying upon them. Because of their lack of numbers, children had been forced to fight. He cursed Cersei once more. Would her aid had kept that from happening?

 

Tyrion was standing waiting on his brother and smiled. “Good to see you up and about, brother.”

 

“I suppose it’s good to be seen. But the circumstances...”

 

“Yes, those are...unfortunate.”

 

“Understatement,” he said softly. “He liked you more than me.”

 

“Of course he did,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m the funnier one. And he got more women with me around. No one wants an imp. Naturally, they chose the one to stand above them.”

 

Jaime frowned. “He didn’t get his wish.”

 

“No, and that pains me for him. Maybe somewhere in the afterlife, he’s sitting in a castle with a great host of women to service him.”

 

He chuckled. “That would be what he’d want,” said as he walked with Tyrion to the pyres. “Any word from the Red Keep?”

 

Tyrion shook his head. “It’s actually frightening,” he responded. “Word must have reached her, by now, that Jon and Daenerys won. I’m sure she’s devising plans on how to kill all of us in the most painful way possible.”

 

“Without a doubt,” Sansa’s voice sounded behind them and both turned and bowed to her. “If I know anything about her, she’s already developed no less than ten plans, each more painful than the previous.”

 

Tyrion nodded. “That sounds like her.” He smiled at Sansa. “You look lovely today, _wife_.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me tie you to one of these pyers, Tyrion,” she said with a slight smile and moved to stand beside him.

 

He looked up at Jaime, a sardonic smile on his face. “She loves me, truly.”

 

Jaime shared a glance with Sansa and smiled despite himself. “I don’t think that’s true.”

 

Sansa turned to say something to Podrick and he was suddenly standing beside her, between Tyrion and Sansa. He knew the squire had been close to Bronn. He’d heard stories of Bronn, Tyrion, and Podrick while they’d all been in King’s Landing. The most outlandish being the quiet squire was somewhat of a genius in bed, though he didn’t believe it. He watched Pod share a small smile with Sansa and he was suddenly consumed by that uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach once more.

 

Podrick and Sansa were both young, but she was of a higher station than him. Sansa seemed to be concerned with propriety, though other members of her family didn’t seem to care as much. Brandon Stark was rolled to the pyres and placed to the other side of his sister and he looked up at her and took her hand. It was the most emotion he’d seen from the boy since he arrived at Winterfell. Sansa smiled down at him and looked out over the people before them.

 

The thumping of the dragons could be heard as they landed and he turned to see Daenerys with a slow-moving Jon Snow. He’d had a broken rib before. It was excruciating. Jon Snow had no less than seven. He didn’t know how the man was moving around. The black dragon walked beside Daenerys and she leaned her head against his. He saw the younger Stark girl walking beside them, obviously angry. The scowl on her face and the look she cast at the man beside her let him know that it was obviously at him. Gendry Baratheon, as others in the keep had taken to calling him, didn’t seem phased by this in the least. She was leaning her weight on a crutch and when she finally arrived with the rest of them, he could see she was sweating. He could hear her growl something to the other man and he didn’t look concerned.

 

Jon was handed the torch which he then passed to Daenerys. “These people, _our_ people, fought together to defeat our enemy. They gave their lives so we could continue to live. We send them off in fire so their spirits mingle with the stars.” He looked over at Daenerys who had tears sliding down her face and he saw Jorah Mormont on the pyre in front of her. He knew that Jorah had been with Daenerys since she’d been married to the Khal years ago. As she lit the circle around the pyres, she handed the torch off to one of her Dothraki and Jon grasped her good hand. They shared a look and if Jaime didn’t know it before, he knew it then: they loved one another. It was uncomfortable to watch.

 

He looked down at Tyrion and frowned at the sad look on his brother’s face. “He liked you,” Tyrion said finally. “He would have killed you and taken the gold if he hadn’t.”

 

Jaime frowned. “I almost wish he had.”

 

“I don’t. I’m glad you’re alive.”

 

People began filtering away a few of the lords stopped to speak to Jon and Daenerys. They would be king and queen. Cersei would die at their hands, and given her betrayal, she should. It had been a long road for him to accept that she was the monster Olenna had said. There were so many signs that he had missed. He internally seethed. He hadn’t missed them, he had overlooked them. He was a fool and not for the first time he hated himself.

 

Daenerys excused herself from Jon and made her way over to Jaime and Tyrion. “We’re going to toast in the hall. Please join us,” she said softly.

 

Tyrion nodded. “Of course. Jaime and I would be happy to attend.”

 

Jaime wanted to tell him to speak for himself, but he bit his tongue under the perusal of the Dragon Queen.

 

“How is your arm?” she asked.

 

“It hurts.”

 

She raised an eyebrow at him and smiled. “I’m finding that out quickly. I’m glad you survived.”

 

“Are you?” Jaime asked.

 

“Despite the fact that you once tried to run me through with a spear, I don’t wish ill on you. If I did, I would have served your head to Lady Sansa when she asked for it. I believe, Ser Jaime, that you’ve already proven your worth and why we allowed you to live. You may yet surprise us all and go further than that.”

 

He frowned. “Meaning?”

 

“We’re gathering our troops, assessing our assets. Are you going to be an asset? Are you going to ride South with us?”

 

He sighed and shrugged his good should. “Undecided.”

 

She nodded. “When we have time, allow me to tell you about my brother Viserys and why he’s dead.” She looked down at Tyrion and gave him a small smile before she returned to Jon and they began making their way back to the castle.

 

He looked down at Tyrion who had a weary smile on his face. “So, that’s the queen you’re backing?”

 

“That’s the queen everyone should back. She fought for her people. She fought for people who would see her dead. On the back of a great monster, she rode into battle and helped stop the coming night. If that’s not a queen to inspire loyalty and trust, I don’t know that one could exist.”

 

Jaime frowned. “She’s killed people.”

 

“Yes. She has. Some people who maybe shouldn’t have died. A lot more who should have. You can hate her if you want. If it makes it easier on you where Cersei is concerned. We’re not asking you to necessarily believe that Daenerys is the best option. We’re asking you to believe that Cersei isn’t,” he said as he started back towards the castle.

 

Jaime turned and looked at the fire and felt a presence beside him. It was Sansa and she wasn’t looking at him. “I wouldn’t recommend standing alone too long in the North,” she said as she cast glances at some of the other Lords who were glaring at him.

 

“I fought at their side. What more do they want?”

 

“Your blood,” she said as she looked at him. “Some of them will never be satisfied with anything less.”

 

“What about you?”

 

She tilted her head as she looked at him. “I told you, I don’t wish you dead. If it was just you fighting in the war, I might reconsider my current position. But, you saved me when I needed someone. That I don’t forget. The North remembers.”

 

He nodded. “You’re right, my lady, they do.”

 

“My Lady?” Brienne said and Sansa turned to her with a smile and walked with her back to the castle.

 

“I’ve seen a look like that,” Tormund said as he walked beside Jaime back to the castle.

 

“What look?”

 

“The one that Lady Sansa gave you."

 

“Like she wants my head on a spike?”

 

He shook his head. “No, what was it that Hound said? Something about wanting to carve out my liver and eat it.” They entered the gates.

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“I would never say this to King Crow, or even around him, but I think the woman kissed by fire might be interested in the Kingslayer.”

 

“Have you been drinking already?”

 

“Yes. But when a woman looks at a man like that there’s usually something there inside them that they don’t like, but they can’t deny it.”

 

“Personal experience speaking?”

 

He nodded. “Brienne looks at me that way. Yet, I plan to have the lady and I think she plans to let me,” he said with a smile. “Besides, Snow and the Dragon Queen are going to down south to kill your sister. Unless you plan to take up with the cockless army, I suggest you find somewhere else to put it.”

 

Jaime scoffed. “It’s amazing. Bronn died and I think I’m done hearing about cocks, and then you show up.”

 

Tormund stopped Jaime with a hand on his good arm. “How much suffering in this world has been caused because of a man following his cock? I’d wager a great deal. That’s where Jon Snow came from. Why would the world be any different now?”

 

“We should want it to be.”

 

“We should. But we don’t. I’ll spend my life trying to make that beauty blissfully happy.”

 

“You’d go South for her,” he recalled.

 

“Right. Where would go?” he asked.

 

*~*

 

Jaime was loath to go back to his room and so he found himself staring out at the snow-covered plains beyond Winterfell. Scorch marks from the dragon fire could still be seen beneath the snow. It was snowing now and he pulled his cloak tighter around him and turned at hearing footfalls. Brienne.

 

“You really shouldn’t be outside. If you get sick in addition to the injury to your arm whether or not you go south with them won’t be an issue. You’ll be dead,” she said plainly.

 

“I’m fine,” he said softly. “Do you like the North?”

 

She looked around and then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here to protect Lady Sansa and Arya, not that she would ever say she needed help. She threw her bloody crutch at me.”

 

Jaime laughed. “I heard she’s been doing that.”

 

“She’s a true fighter. She equaled me.”

 

Jaime turned to look at her and smirked. “That’s quite an accomplishment for one so young.”

 

“It’s not age, it’s what she went through. She and Sansa had such different experiences. Yet, here they are, reunited, and somehow they’re getting along. I heard they never used to.”

 

He smiled. “You like the Starks.”

 

“I do. They’re honorable, honest, fair, and probably some of the best people I know.”

 

“All of them?”

 

She nodded. “Do you know that Jon Snow never once questioned why I was Sansa’s escort to Castle Black? Never questioned that I was a woman and it was unsafe. There aren’t many people who look at me and see someone of value that can protect others. Jon Snow never questioned that I couldn’t. He treats his sisters as equals. He treats Daenerys as an equal.” She sighed. “Then there’s Bran, strange child. But again, his experiences have shaped what he’s become. He’s seen everything that’s happened in the past. You would have to imagine that all the horrors he’d seen his family endure he would have to stop feeling everything at some point. A person couldn’t endure all of that and still feel things like the rest of us do. And he’s...gotten better since the Night King fell. He’s stopped telling Sansa about the horrible things she went through.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Brienne shook head. “When he first arrived back at Winterfell, he told Sansa how beautiful she looked on her wedding night...to Ramsay.”

 

Jaime paused, wondering how much Brienne would divulge of what Sansa had gone through. “I heard he was a sadistic monster.”

  
“That’s being kind,” she said softly. “When I found her, she was near to freezing to death and he had sent his men and dogs to find her and Theon. She was weak, cold, and abused. They’d trudged through a river and she truly thought she was going be delivered back into his clutches. Littlefinger knew what he was and sold her to him anyway.”

 

Jaime’s jaw tensed and his fist tightened beneath his cloak. “She’s a fighter.”

 

Brienne nodded. “I thought she was going to get your head. Especially when she found out about Bran.”

 

He frowned. “I wish I could take that one action back.”

 

“Just that one?”

 

He shook his head. “You know that’s not true.”

 

“I do,” she said as she turned and faced him. “They know why you killed the Mad King. Tyrion already told them, but I made sure they all knew that you did it to protect all those innocent people who didn’t need to die. I don’t think you’ll hear the Starks referring to you as Kingslayer.”

 

“Doesn’t erase all the other things I did.”

 

“It does not. But it proves there’s more to you than a man who blindly follows Cersei.”

 

He sighed. “Did they send you out here to try to convince me to fight Cersei?”

 

She shook her head. “No. No one sent me.”

 

They were silent for a moment and then he smiled, thinking of the Wildling. “So...Tormund?”

 

She blushed and it moved from her face to her ears. “Careful what you say or I’ll pitch you over this wall.”

 

He smiled. “I wasn’t going to say anything disparaging. He seems to be madly in love with you.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Or just mad,” she said with a huff. “I’m confused about him.”

 

“What’s confusing?”

 

“I want to punch him in the face but also kiss him. It’s very...disturbing.”

 

Jaime laughed and shook his head. “It’s lust. And why not? He has done nothing but sing your praises to anyone who listens.” If it was possible, she turned redder. “He admires you as a fighter as much as a woman. One thing’s for certain, he would never try to change you.”

 

She shook her head. “I almost like him.”

 

“I think you do like him,” Jaime said with a teasing lilt to his tone. “I won’t tell anyone.”

 

She heaved a sighed. “Sansa knows.”

 

He nodded. “I gathered that. Rather perceptive,” he said as he started walking away.

 

“I don’t know how comfortable I am that you’re having conversations about me behind my back.”

 

“I can assure you that nothing that’s been said would bring you dishonor,” he said with a nod. “The people you protect care for you. I never doubted that they would.”

 

He began walking back into the castle and felt a shiver run through his body as it adjusted to the warmer temperatures. He stopped in the hall as he saw Sansa standing and staring at the stone. He realized where he was. There were still burn marks on the stone from where her undead handmaiden had been burned. He was going to turn and leave her to her reverie when her eyes suddenly met him and he was rooted in place.

 

“I keep having nightmares,” she said finally. She shook her head, aggrieved. “I thought that once I could get Ramsay out of my head that they would stop. But now, there’s a new monster chasing me,” she said softly. “When does it end?”

 

Jaime shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe never?”

 

She gave a half smile. “That’s what I like about you. You’ll be honest with me even if I don’t like the truth.”

 

“You’re alive. Which is more than a lot of people can say. I would urge you not to dwell on it.”

 

“Is that how you get over it? You don’t dwell?”

 

He sighed and shook his head. “I’m not over anything, my lady. In fact, it seems that the longer I live the worst things get.”

 

“That’s comforting.”

 

He stepped towards her and turned her to face him. “The monsters you faced are gone. The Dead, Ramsay Bolton, Littlefinger, and Joffrey are all gone. You are the one standing here, alive, in your home. Surely that has to do something to dissuade the nightmares.”

 

She shook her head. “I can’t let myself stop thinking about any of it. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll fall into the same trap. I never want to be someone’s victim again.”

 

“And you won’t. You’re too smart for that, now.”

 

He watched as she tilted her head at him. “I was told by several people that I was a slow learner. I am. Sometimes too trusting still to people I shouldn’t trust. Littlefinger managed to weasel his way back into my counsel after he sold me to Ramsay. That marks a fool.”

 

He remembered telling Olenna that he was a slow learner. Maybe they had that in common. But he shook his head. “No. He took advantage of the situation you were in.”

 

“I should have seen that he was still playing me,” she said and he could hear the disgust in her voice. “I should have known.”

 

He frowned. “What happened to Littlefinger happened exactly how it should have. You had his own words to use against him. You had the Knights of the Vale hear what he had done. He had nowhere left to go, and at the end, he showed you what kind of man he truly was. He betrayed you, plain and simple. His motivations for any of it are unimportant.”

 

Sansa frowned. “You sound so certain.”

 

He nodded. “I am. You don’t take pity on monsters. If they’d done that to you then they’ve done it to other people.”

 

She faced him them and he was caught by the intensity of her blue eyes. “You should be resting.”

 

He shook his head. “I can’t stare at the walls of that room any longer. Once I was outside this morning, I haven’t wanted to go back in.”

 

She sighed. “Not everyone likes the snow. I find it’s cleansing. In the same way fire is. It hides scars, imperfections with perfection.”

 

Jaime tilted his head as he watched her. “It will eventually melt, and the scars are still there.”

 

“Some scars, Jaime, won’t disappear no matter what we do to cover them. Those we live with. We can try to hide them, but they’re always there, mocking us with the pain we endured.” He lowered his head and could almost feel where the fingers of his right hand had been. He didn’t realize she had moved but she was now standing in front of him and gently moved his cloak aside to examine the covered nub where his hand had been. She smelled of trees and snow. It almost caused him to be dizzy. When her eyes met his, he was trapped by them. “I carry my scars. I can cover them in the day, but in the dark of the night, they stand out and remind me of the battles I fought and lost.”

 

“Battles lost,” he whispered. “You won the war.”

 

She licked her lips and he was transfixed by her tongue peeking out. “There are wars yet to come.”

 

“You should learn how to fight.”

 

She gave him a slight half smile. “You fight your way, I’ll fight mine.”

 

She released his hand and turned to walk away from him. Sansa disappeared down the corridor before he even had the chance to beg her to stay.


	37. Gendry VI

**GENDRY**

 

Gendry was seated in front of the fire and he was acutely aware of Arya behind him attempting to undress. She insisted that she didn’t need him and so he didn’t help her unless she asked for it. After watching her throw the crutch that the Maester had given her at both Sansa and Brienne, he didn’t want to be on the receiving end of it. If she wanted to be stubborn and overexert herself, he’d let her.

 

She moved around his chair and stood in front of him, and he knew she would hate it if he mentioned that she still had a very pronounced limp. The stitches on her arm were healing well, and her leg looked better than it had days before. He was thankful that the bandages around both were no longer coming away bloody.

 

“Why are you being so quiet?” she asked.

 

He frowned and leaned back in his chair and pulled her to sit on his lap. “Sad day.”

 

Her fingers moved along his jaw as he leaned into her neck, inhaling her scent. At the moment she smelled like the salve that the Maester had given her to put over her wounds. But there was also the smell of leather and wind. “Reflecting on your life choices?”

 

He nodded and smirked up at her. “Yes, specifically allowing you to command me like a pup.”

 

“When have I done that?”

 

He rolled his eyes. “When haven’t you done that?”

 

She then shrugged her uninjured shoulder and grinned. “You knew what you were getting into.”

 

He nodded. “I certainly did. No regrets.”

 

Arya leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips and he knew he’d have to somewhat hold back or she’d have him and she’d be in pain later. He wouldn’t hurt her for anything, no matter how much he wanted her. She broke the kiss and ran her thumb along his lower lip. “Maybe we should take this to the bed.”

 

He smoothed his hand down her back and frowned. “I told you when the Maester says you won’t start bleeding...”

 

She moved from his lap and over to her side of the bed and removed her sword. He knew she wouldn’t be able to remove her jerkin without his help, and he was going to make her ask for it. He wanted to prove a point, that she wasn’t as well as she thought. He kept his back to her as he removed his other boot and placed both by the fire and then leaned back. He could hear her huff in frustration and finally, his name said angrily. “Gendry.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“I can’t get to all the laces,” she admitted and he leaned around the chair to look at her. He didn’t know why her hair was mussed like it was, but that combined with only one boot on her foot, the laces of her leather breeches undone and her jerkin hanging off her shoulder he thought she was beautiful in her anger. He stood and walked over to her. He undid the laces down her side and dropped the jerkin to the floor as well as her tunic. He pushed her to the bed and undid her other boot. She stood again to allow him to remove her leathers and felt her lips against his ear.

 

“Why are you still here?” she whispered.

 

He stood straight and looked at her. “Where else would I be?”

 

She shook her head. “I mean...I’ve been nasty to everyone the last few days. You’ve endured my temper more than others...”

 

He smirked. “You haven’t thrown anything at me, either.” He brushed down her hair and kissed her gently on the forehead. “You’re my concern. There’s nowhere else I’m going to be, even if you did decide to kick me out.”

 

She leaned her head against his chest and he cupped her face in his hands. “I hate being helpless.”

 

He sighed. “You’re not helpless. Are you able to do everything you did before? Not at the moment, but you’re already getting around better than you did. Your wounds are healing,” he said as he helped her to the bed and sat beside her.

 

“It’s frustrating,” she said where she sat beside him. “I feel fine, most of the time, but sometimes just the wrong movement causes me pain and it makes me feel weak.”

 

He took her hand in his. “It’s not weak to admit that you’re hurt. Or to ask for help.”

 

“I hate it.”

 

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I imagine you do. You never liked admitting you needed anything from anyone. I didn’t see how that would have improved with age.”

 

She rolled her eyes and he gave her a half smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be a bigger pain in my ass?”

 

He shook his head. “No, my lady. That’s always been you to me.”

 

She shoved him with her good hand. “Why do I put up with you?”

 

“Sex, mostly,” he said and they both chuckled.

 

“Although, you’re not even holding up to your end on that one.”

 

He sighed. “Believe me, it’s not been fun sleeping pressed up against you every night and every morning. Especially where you do that thing and rub your arse against me.”

 

She smiled. “I do it on purpose.”

 

He nodded and chuckled again. “I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

 

Arya frowned then. “When Jon goes South, I’m going with him.”

 

“I know.”

 

She tilted her head. “Not going to try to talk me out of it?”

 

He shook his head. “Why would I waste the energy? You’re a fighter. And it would be damn disrespectful of me to ask you. So, if you’re going, I’m going with you.”

 

“You truly know who I am. I thought that it might scare you away...”

 

He sighed. “No. Seeing you bleeding on the ground scared me. Watching you hurl your crutch at Sansa and then later Brienne? That was a bit frightening. Who you are doesn’t scare me.”

 

*~*

 

Gendry spun his hammer in his hands as he stood beside a sitting Arya and watched Brienne instructing a reluctant Sansa with a sword. He could see how frustrated Arya was that she couldn’t help, but it still hurt badly to put weight on her leg and Brienne and Sansa wouldn’t allow her to help unless she was going to make verbal suggestions from the side. Pod was standing on Arya’s other side as they watched Brienne knock the blade from Sansa’s hands again.

 

“She held it longer that time, didn’t she?” Pod asked.

 

Gendry frowned. “Not much longer.”

 

“Sansa, it’s like your sewing needles. If you hold it too tight you don’t get the fluidity you need to move to the next stitch and too loose and you drop the needle to the floor,” Arya explained.

 

Sansa picked up the sword and looked at her sister in exasperation. Tormund joined them shortly and they watched as Brienne tried the same thing, only this time Sansa held onto the sword and jumped in excitement. They all laughed at how happy she was and she ordered Brienne to try it again.

 

“Do you think she realizes that Brienne’s not using her actual strength?” Pod asked.

 

“Shh, don’t damage her confidence,” Arya said with a smile.

 

“No one worries if she's damaged my confidence,” Pod remarked.

 

“You’re her squire. You shouldn’t have confidence,” Arya said with a smile. “You’re also, not a lady.”

 

Tormund frowned and Gendry looked at him. “What’s wrong?”

 

“What is happening here?”

 

“Brienne is trying to teach Sansa how to defend herself.” Pod explained.

 

Tormund looked at them in confusion. “Why?”

 

Arya answered. “She needs to learn.”

 

“Yes, I agree with that. But why is Brienne teaching her?”

 

“Why can’t I teach her?” Brienne suddenly asked as she stared at him.

 

Tormund sighed and looked at the group. “Because you would never hurt her. Defeats the purpose of learning to fight if your life isn’t really in danger.”

 

Gendry was trying to find the logic in the insanity but it didn’t come. Arya chimed in. “So, your issue isn’t that Brienne is a woman...”

 

Tormund scoffed. “As if that matters. She’s the best one, maybe save your brother, I’ve ever seen with a sword. She should have someone with skill teaching her how to wield it. But there’s no threat, no need to for her learn quickly.”

 

“I’m not trying to hurt her.”

 

“And anyone she fights will try to not only hurt her but kill her,” Tormund reasoned.

 

Gendry frowned. “He’s right.”

 

Arya looked over at him and shook her head. “No, he isn’t.”

 

“Yes, he is. You were trained by Syrio, true, but you learned more when your life was on the line,” Gendry responded.

  
“I’m sorry, but I don’t want my life to be on the line. This is a precaution,” Sansa argued. “I’ve barely got a grip on the sword. Let’s not have people start charging me.”

 

“What is happening here?” Jon’s voice cut through their arguments. He joined the rest of them, albeit slowly and leaned against the crates that Arya was sitting on, causing Pod to move.

 

“Tormund suggested that Sansa fight someone that wants to hurt her so she learns to use the sword quicker,” Arya answered, obviously knowing the reaction they would get from her brother.

 

Gendry nearly laughed at the expression on Jon’s face as he turned to his Wildling friend. “That’s how we do it North of the Wall,” Tormund explained. At everyone’s silence, he turned to Jon. “Would you say you were a better fighter before you actually fought in a battle or two or now?”

 

He was stunned that everyone else seemed to have no argument to this. He saw the merit in it even if he thought it was insane. He already knew the Wildlings, or Free Folk did things differently. “While that might be sound advice for others, I think Sansa can learn well enough without having a sword come to her throat.”

 

Tormund held up his hands in surrender. “Fine. It’s how I learned,” he said as he stood back and Sansa stared at him apprehensively.

 

Arya wrapped her arm around Gendry’s shoulders where he leaned against her. He smiled as his hand looped and rubbed against her ankle over her boot. Brienne tried the same move and when Sansa parried and Brienne changed the angle of her sword, she was still holding it. He could feel eyes on him and found that they were Jon’s but he remained silent and turned back to Sansa. He didn’t know what Jon was going to say to him when they eventually talked, but he was sure there would be a threat of some kind.

 

Brienne withdrew and Sansa turned to Arya. “I want to learn all the spins that you do.”

 

Arya scoffed. “Because it’s that easy.”

 

“I know it’s not. But you use a smaller sword and you’re fast. I like that part.”

 

She shook her head. “I can’t teach you while I’m still injured. Certain unreasonable parties refuse to let me do anything physical until the stitches are removed,” she said as she poked Gendry in the shoulder.

 

“Yes, I’m the horrible person who won’t allow you to re-injure yourself.”

 

“But you could show me the wrist movements while you’re sitting.”

 

Brienne knocked the sword from Sansa’s hand and Jon smiled. “Practice holding onto the sword and then you can learn the water dancing.”

 

She groaned in frustration. “The sword is heavy.”

 

Gendry extracted himself from Arya and moved over to Sansa, his hammer in his hand. “Give me your sword.” She handed it over and he dropped his hammer into her hands and she dropped it immediately. “You’ll get comfortable with what you practice with.”

 

Arya piped up behind him. “What about the knife? It’s small.”

 

“Also puts someone too close,” Jon responded. Gendry lifted his hammer and gave Sansa back her sword. “You don’t have to practice with a great sword. Maybe the smith has something smaller and more lightweight.”

 

“Or he could make me something,” Sansa said as she walked away toward the forge.

 

Gendry moved over to Arya and sighed. “She’s exhausting.”

 

“Aren’t you glad I’m easier to get along with?”

 

He barked out a laugh before he could control it and she gave him a sour look, her eyes flashing dangerously, but he didn’t wipe the smile from her face. “You’ve thrown four people out of your room, not to mention two crutches, a book, and a fire poker. You’ve not been _easy to get along with_.”

 

“Why have you done all of that?” Jon asked. Brienne muttered something about going to make sure Sansa didn’t put too much of a task on the poor smiths, and Pod and Tormund followed. That left Gendry and Arya alone with Jon.

 

“Because people keep insisting that I’m hurt and I can’t do things for myself.”

 

Gendry rolled his eyes. “To be fair, when they _originally_ said that, you’d just been carted off the field bleeding. The tourniquet had only just been removed.”

 

“Sansa had already said something to me about not wanting me to go South. She made me angry.”

 

“She said something to me as well,” Jon replied. “She’s worried about you.”

 

Arya narrowed her eyes. “Did she? And what did _you_ say?”

 

He sighed. “She asked me if I could dissuade you. I told her that no one would be able to talk you out of something you wanted to do. I have no intention of stopping you. If you want to go South with us then I welcome you at my side.”

 

Gendry knew there was going to be more to this conversation. Arya sighed and cut off anything else Jon was going to say. “Sansa says you’re getting married.”

 

He nodded. “I am. What about you?”

 

Arya rolled her eyes and Gendry smirked. If Jon had to ask then it meant he hadn’t heard Arya’s philosophy on marriage. He only hoped that he didn’t fall down from shock. She didn’t have the most tact.

 

“I’ll get married if and when I want to. Not before then. And no one will make me.”

 

Jon looked at Gendry. “And you accept this?”

 

He furrowed his brow and glanced at Arya. “She’d slit my throat otherwise.”

 

“When we defeat Cersei, which I’m completely confident we will, will you come back North?”

 

Arya sighed. “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

 

Jon looked at Gendry again. “We’ve already called you Gendry Baratheon to an assembly of Lords. We can do a formal naming if you want.”

 

Gendry took a deep breath and looked at Arya who stared at him with curiosity. He shook his head. “I’m not one for ceremony.”

 

Jon heaved a sigh. “Gendry walk with me a moment, won’t you?”

 

Arya furrowed her brow. “What about me?”

 

“Can you get down?” Jon asked as both he and Gendry watched her face change to fury.

 

“With help, I can!”

 

Jon nodded and smiled. “Good. Gendry?” he gestured in front of him, away from Arya.

 

“Get me down,” she said through gritted teeth.

 

“Don’t touch her. Let her do it herself. She’s said how much she hates help,” Jon responded with a half smile.

 

She scraped together snow and threw it at Jon, but he ducked it though winced as he did. Gendry had already moved away from her and he could hear her groan in frustration as he looked back at her. They stopped on the other side of the wall, out of earshot of Arya, watching for a moment as she assessed her position. Gendry knew if she jumped, then she’d jostle herself too much and would cause more pain. For the moment, she truly was stuck. “Making you the legitimate heir of House Baratheon was an easy decision, one which has some limitations.”

 

Gendry looked down then met Jon’s eyes. “Which are?”

 

“You’re...careful. You and I both know what it’s like to grow up bastards. Don’t do that to a child. It’s a hellish existence at times.”

 

Gendry frowned and nodded. He took a deep breath and looked at the ground for a moment before once more meeting Jon’s eyes. He was one of the few people who knew what it felt like to not belong. “I understand.”

 

“Making you the heir makes the possibility of you marrying her less of a problem. And should some of the Northron lords start demanding that Arya is married to one of their sons for the sake of a permanent alliance, you’ll say you’re betrothed.”

 

“And you’ll have a nice pyre constructed for me when she kills me for making such a statement?”

 

Jon chuckled and glanced at Arya, then back at Gendry. “It’ll be decent enough. It’s for her safety. You know that.”

 

“Knowing it and convincing her of it are two different things. I’ll talk to her.”

 

Jon nodded. “I hope you do. You better go get her before she kills you.”

 

Gendry looked over his shoulder at Arya who was glaring at him. “Good to see you up moving around.” He walked away from Jon and back to a fuming Arya.

 

“You’re going to tell me what he said...” she demanded as he walked closer.

 

“Am I now? Are you really in a position to tell me what to do?”

 

“I’ll make you suffer,” she warned.

 

He shrugged. “I can leave you here.”

 

“You wouldn’t.”

 

“Sure of yourself are you?”

 

She smiled and tugged the front of his tunic to bring him closer. “If you don’t tell me what he said you can join the Unsullied.”

 

He smiled. “Nothing bad, I promise.”

 

“Did he threaten you?”

 

“No. More of a warning to not let you have a bastard. Things you and I have talked about. He did show some concern that some of the Northron lords might demand that you marry one of their sons for an alliance. And should that happen, we announce we’re betrothed, whether or not we are.”

 

She frowned. “Feels like a trick to get me to marry you.”

 

“I told you, I’ll take you however I can get you. I would never trick you into marrying me. I love you. If you choose to marry me, so be it.”

 

Arya was silent for a moment and frowned. “I hate all of this. Lords trading in their children for alliances that don’t last. It makes whatever happened before seem meaningless. It seems to me all alliances end at some point. You can never trust everyone to hold to their word.”

 

Gendry frowned. “No, you can’t. I learned a long time ago that you can’t trust people to be honorable.” He traced the lace of her boot along her ankle and then looked up at her. “Then again, sometimes you meet people that surprise you. Yoren protected the both of us, gave his life trying to protect us. You turned out to be honorable. Your brother. Seems to me, the Dragon Queen, Brienne, even that Wildling fellow all seem to be people of honor. They exist, they’re simply rare.”

 

She smiled and held out her hand. “Help me down from here,” she said and he took her hand and put it on his shoulder as he lifted her from the boxes and put her on her feet. He picked up her crutch from where it had fallen and handed it to her. “Where to, m’lady?”

 

“Don’t make me throw this at you,” she said with a smile.


	38. Daenerys VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reflections on what was lost, what can never happen, and new strategies are laid out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, everyone! Just wanted to drop a line and say thank you again for the amazing support for this story! I'm still making huge efforts to post every day. I love reading all the comments and I try to respond to everyone! I know this has pairings that not all of you agree with, but 38 chapters in it is what it is. Continue reading, skip the chapters you don't want to read, whatever. I appreciate that you're giving this little fic a try.
> 
> I also know that some people are upset as they believe I'm getting away from Jon and Dany as the main center of this story and focusing on the other two couples or other characters. But this was never specifically just about them. If it was, it would only have been from their POV. I'm trying to spread it evenly throughout. That said, Jon and Dany have a LOT of plot coming forward and as someone else said, you're seeing that Jon and Dany are the centers of this story because you're always seeing them from the perspective of other people.
> 
> Also, as you can see by the title, I'm heavily influenced by whatever music I'm listening to at the moment. This chapter is brought to you by the following songs:  
> Arms - Christina Perri  
> Slow Like Honey - Fiona Apple  
> Ready for Love - India Arie

**DAENERYS**

 

Daenerys stood out at the field petting Drogon and Rhaegal, neither of whom were willing to share their mother’s attention. She moved her hand along the scales of Rhaegal’s nose while Drogon nuzzled her head against his. She’d missed her children while she’d been cooped up inside the castle. She could have left. A broken arm was a paltry injury compared to those who lost limbs or their lives.

 

She still hadn’t reconciled in her heart that Jorah was gone. It made her feel wretched. She knew he was in love with her. He’d said as much. She simply never felt that way about him. It pained her to think that he died not knowing how she cared for him so, even if it wasn’t the way he wanted. She should have made time to talk to him. Part of her just always assumed he would be there and she could do it later. But there was no later for Jorah. He was gone and she was filled with regret. 

 

_ If I look back, I’m lost _ . It was something she repeated to herself often enough that she should be able to accomplish it with ease. But it didn’t come easily to her at all. It was an internal war within her to not look back and second-guess herself. Maybe Jorah was just something she would have to carry with her forever. 

 

Drogon and Rhaegal both turned towards the gate and she knew that it was because of Jon without having to look up. Rhaegal move away from her and went to Jon, obviously feeling a sort of kinship with the man who had ridden him into battle. She watched him gently pet Rhaegal’s long neck and then continue walking to Daenerys. 

 

“If Sansa’s not supposed to walk around without an escort, why do you think it’s safe for you?”

 

She turned to him slowly and smiled. “I’m safer here than anywhere else. What fool would attack me with them around?”

 

Jon frowned. “A great many fools,” he petted Drogon as well and the dragon settled on the ground. 

 

Rhaegal nudged Daenerys at her belly and blew smoke from his nostrils at her. “They’re acting strangely.” 

 

“How so?” 

 

She furrowed her brow. “They’re being more gentle. Almost as if they know I’m hurt. They’re trying to protect me, as usual.”

  
“You are their mother.” He frowned deepened and he turned her to face him fully and put his hands on her hips. “What is it?”

 

She looked to the ground and then at Drogon with his massive head lying beside them. “I know we’ve agreed to this marriage and we’ve also discussed my inability to have children. But I wanted to make sure that you knew what you were giving up if you married me. You’ll never have a child from you and me.”

 

He closed his eyes for a moment as he took a deep breath. “I know, Dany,” she looked up at him through her lashes. “You’ve said it a few times before.”

 

“In the Dragon Pit, you expressed sentiments that you didn’t believe it. But you and I have been sharing a bed for many moons now, Jon. I hope you realize that...though I would want nothing more than to give you a child, it’s simply not going to happen.” She managed to keep her tears at bay, though she didn’t know how. It made her feel hollow and empty that she couldn’t give him the family he deserved. It was one place she felt less than other people. Her dragons were her children, and fearsome though they were, they weren’t a babe she could hold in her arms. They would never have Jon’s hair and her eyes. They would never exist. It was a cruel twist that she found a man she truly loved and she couldn’t have his child.

 

He stepped forward and took her hand in his. He brought her gloved hand up to kiss and sighed. “Whether or not you can give me a child doesn’t change how I feel about you.” He looked at the ground and watched the wind whip snow around them as it swirled at their feet. “Nothing, at this point, could change how I feel about you.”

 

She smiled and felt a tear trace down her cheek. He brushed it away with his gloved finger before she moved into the circle of his arms, careful of his ribs and her own hand as she let him hold her. “I love you, Jon Snow.” He placed a kiss on her nose and she couldn’t help the grin that came unabashedly to her face. Her King in the North was so unlike what she thought. What she knew of Northmen was that they were little better than savages. Jon Snow was anything but a savage. He was gentle, kind, generous, and more than she could have hoped for when she’d left Essos. “How are you feeling?”

 

She found herself soothed by his little smile. “I’m doing better. Getting out yesterday was good for me. Being out here with you, now, is even better.”

 

Daenerys leaned up and kissed him. “You certainly look like you’re moving around better. I’m glad. I hate seeing you in pain.”

 

He frowned. “I know the feeling. I panicked watching you fall from Drogon.”

 

She frowned as well and brushed a finger over his lips, trying to chase it away. “Not one of my favorite moments. I hated seeing what had become of Viscerion. He took him and manipulated him. Did you see there were holes in his wings?” she whispered. It had been horrible to behold. 

 

He nodded. “I did. We brought him down, though. We killed the Night King.”

 

She walked with Jon back through the gates. “Now, there’s only the monster currently on the Iron Throne.”

 

Jon stopped walking momentarily and she realized that it was because he was winded. She didn’t know when his ribs would heal, but she hated to see him in pain. As he caught his breath, he did post a raspy question to her, “What exactly do you think her plan was? She had to know that we won or the dead won. Either way, she doesn’t keep her throne.”

 

Daenerys shook her head. “I don’t know. Perhaps she was hoping that the Gold Company could get to King's Landing before she had to fight. Perhaps she thinks she can withstand a siege.”

 

“Could they?” he wondered aloud.

 

They continued their walk into the keep and into Jon’s study. She knew it once belonged to his...uncle, but it now showed traces of him. He removed his gloves and his heavy cloak and helped her with the cloak Sansa had made for her. He closed the door behind them and moved to sit in front of the fire. “They might be able to withstand for a fortnight. I don’t know how long those people would stay within the walls peacefully once they start to starve. And we also have dragons. That tips it in our favor a bit.”

 

“The Gold Company has elephants.” He looked at her then. “Have you ever seen elephants?”

 

She smiled. “Once. When I was a child. I didn’t have many dealings with the Gold Company except for Jorah,” her mind wandered again to her loyal knight who had fallen. Jon took her hand in his, sensing her pain. She shook it off and sat across from him. “I do have the Second Sons in my employ.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You have three armies.”

 

She smiled. “I do. I must have told you this.”

 

He shook his head. “How did you get the Second Sons?”

 

She leaned back in her seat. “The Second Sons had three leaders. Two of them wanted me dead or in their bed at their mercy. The third...would have liked me to be at his mercy. Daario killed the other two and brought me their heads.”

 

Jon frowned. “So, you actually had nothing to do with it other than some leader decided that he wanted you?”

 

She smiled. “I didn’t burn anyone alive if that’s what you mean. I was simply the catalyst for Daario.”

 

Jon looked at the fire. “Did he get you?”

 

She tilted her head. “For a while,” she answered honestly. She felt no need to lie to him about a man she left behind so easily. “I left him in Mereen. I thought it would be hard because I  _ thought _ I cared for him. I didn’t care as much as he wanted.” He seemed to huff out a breath and she smiled. “Are you jealous?”

 

He turned his head and looked at her. “No.”

 

She grinned and stood in front of him. “You shouldn’t be. There is no comparison for how I feel about him to how I feel about you.” She moved to gently sit in his lap and stroked his jaw with her hand. “You are my perfect match, Jon.”

 

He moved his hand over her hip and brought her down to kiss him. They stayed that way for a few moments, simply kissing. It was strange that she could be content with nothing but his kisses. Other times she’d be ready to just get down to it and rush a coupling. But Jon was still injured and she refused to be the source of his pain and so it never moved beyond his arms around her as his lips moving against hers. They only broke apart at the knock on the door and Daenerys moved back to her chair. He bid them enter and both Tyrion and Davos entered the room.

 

“Good, you are both here,” Tyrion said as he held out a scroll from a raven. Jon took it but she could see the Lannister house sigil. “I thought we should all hear her threat together.”

 

Jon removed the seal and read the letter aloud. “To the Dragon Bitch and Her Northern Dog. Come to King’s Landing with whatever remains of your army. The Gold Company welcomes you. If you surrender, I’ll make your deaths painless. If you refuse, you and everyone you love will die screaming. Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Cersei Baratheon.”

 

Daenerys smirked. “She’s humble.”

 

“She’s mad,” Tyrion sighed. “She doesn’t care how many people die. She almost welcoming it because she knows _you_ both care.”

 

Jon frowned. “So, what do we do?”

 

“We plan. You’ll go to King’s Landing married, with dragons, the Dothraki, The Unsullied, what Northmen we can convince to join us, and we’ll develop siege weapons as we gather our forces.”

 

“What if she strikes before we’re ready?” Davos questioned. “It would be smarter for her to already have an army marching North rather than waiting for us to go South. Catch us unaware.”

 

“But we’re not unaware,” Tyrion answered. “We know that she could strike at any moment. I believe she is most likely trying to take over the lands that she lost. She needs the support of those houses. She will need their armies to fight against us.”

 

“How many houses?” Jon asked. 

 

“Large houses, twelve, roughly. It depends on if she decides to sway Dorne.”

 

“Could she?” Daenerys asked.

 

“Considering the Martells aligned with you...she might be able to convince them that we got their queen killed,” Tyrion responded.

 

Jon heaved a sigh. “We leave one war to start another.”

 

“The war against my sister was started the moment they crowned her queen. Before that, actually. They did seek to kill _our_ queen from the moment of her birth.”

 

Daenerys tilted her head. “That reminds me. Where is Varys?”

 

“He’s received several ravens over the last few days. I believe he’s compiling information.”

 

“Let us hope that it provides something useful,” she remarked. “How many Dothraki remain?”

 

“We’ve estimated you still have a force of sixty-thousand.”

 

“And Unsullied?”

 

“Two thousand. Roughly,” Tyrion answered. 

 

“Northmen? Knights of the Vale?”

 

“Lord Royce said around nine hundred. And I believe we have a count of just over one thousand of your sworn shields.”

 

Daenerys sighed and paced to the window and gave voice to the one thing she knew Cersei had at her disposal that could give her an edge. “Let me ask you, Tyrion, what are the chances that she uses Wildfire?”

 

The room grew silent as the fire in the hearth crackled. “More than I would like to comprehend.”

 

She turned to them and frowned. “It’s a weapon she has at her disposal. Why wouldn’t she use it? She has before.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “She has. I suppose that is something we have to consider.”

 

“We have to fight smarter to save all of those people. What would she not expect?”

 

He heaved a sigh. “That’s the thing, your grace, I almost feel as if in the current state of her mind she would expect everything. She’s mad, yes, but she’s also a student of my father, one of the greatest ever at the game.”

 

Jon sighed. “Stop referring to this as a game. None of this is a game. These are people’s lives we’re talking about. People who have no choice but to live in a city she rules. How do we keep all of them from dying?” At the pause, Jon tilted his head at Tyrion. “If you tell me it’s a good question, I’ll toss you into this fire.”

 

Daenerys hid her smile by turning back to the window. Davos was the one to speak. “She needs the people to remain docile if she’s going to withstand a siege. What if we riled them up?”

 

She looked at the older man and moved away from the window. “How?”

 

“A person is able to be reasoned with.  _ People _ in a mob are not. All it would take would be whispered words in alleys or brothels and...”

 

“There would be unrest.”

 

“Cersei would strike it down immediately.”

 

“We don’t only go after the peasants. Surely we could find a few Lords or even Ladies that would be loyal to the Targayrens. Varys has his little birds, as you call them. Let’s use them.”

 

Jon looked at Daenerys and shrugged. “It’s worth a try, at least, isn’t it?”

 

Tyrion nodded. “It is. We make it known that you’re coming south, that war will hit King’s Landing. They’ve already seen the armies. They know you have Dothraki screamers and dragons. That would be enough to make them unruly, to begin with. But to know that King chosen by the people of the North is marching south with Queen who freed the slave cities could be enough to make them wonder if a better life is possible.”

 

Daenerys crossed her hands in front of her. “And we bring a Baratheon with us.”

 

Davos frowned. “That puts Gendry in danger.”

 

“We’ve already pronounced him as a Baratheon in front of the Lords of the North. It may be what we need to sway the Stormlands to not support Cersei.”

 

Jon closed his eyes for a moment and he looked tormented. She hated to see him so distraught. “We’ll make sure he agrees first. Arya as well as it would also affect her.”

 

“How so?” Tyrion questioned.

 

“Anyone that goes near Gendry will have to go through her, first,” Jon responded. “A scary prospect, but it does influence their future.”

 

Davos chimed in. “I could talk to Gendry if you want.”

 

Jon shook his head. “No, she’s my sister. I’ll talk to them. I know she has no intention of getting married anytime soon.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “Not that I’m judging, but she does realize how that probably looks to others.”

 

Daenerys smiled and leaned back in her chair. “I would love to watch you tell her, Tyrion.”

 

He shook his head and even Jon smirked. “Either way, I would never force her to marry anyone, even if she is in love with him. It happened to Sansa twice. I won’t do it to Arya.” He looked at Tyrion and nodded slightly. “No offense.”

 

“None taken. But, Gendry being Robert’s son, and looking remarkably like him, does help. We could send him to the Stormlands to see if he could rally them.”

 

“Again, I’ll talk to them,” he responded. “Let’s get back to Cersei. What about your brother?”

 

Tyrion sighed. “I don’t know.”

 

“He rode North for a reason,” Daenerys said. “You told me he killed my father to keep innocent people from dying. She’s already destroyed the Sept of Baelor and killed countless innocent people from the explosion around it. Would he do something similar to prevent the entire city from being destroyed.”

 

Tyrion frowned and shook his head. “I hardly know, your grace. Jaime has honor. He’s betrayed it several times for family or ambition. But he does have it. Whether or not that would lead him South with us, I don’t know. I would hope he would see that this means more than just Cersei’s life. And...I should tell you...she’s pregnant.”

 

Daenerys felt something inside her freeze. How could that horrible woman be pregnant with another child? She’s already wrought enough of her horror onto the world. “And Jaime is the father?”

 

“Yes. She has no intention of claiming it to be anyone else’s.”

 

Jon lowered his head. “This keeps getting more difficult.”

 

“Cersei dies the child dies,” Davos said softly. “I don’t like her. Hate her actually, but...”

 

“The baby did nothing,” Daenerys frowned. “I know. I’m feeling less certain, now.”

 

Tyrion sighed. “Any child she has would be a threat to your reign.”

 

Jon faced him. “It’s still an innocent child. Your niece or nephew. Are you really so set on Cersei’s destruction that you don’t care about that?”

 

Tyrion frowned. “No. Tommen and Myrcella were my fault. I’ve lost them. I would hate to lose another. But how many people stand to lose their lives if she remains on the throne. You can’t leave her alive. She’ll find some way to destroy all of us.”

 

Daenerys sighed, trying to reign in her fury to think of Cersei being allowed to have another child when she was unable to have any. Her only child lost to her at the hands of a witch. However, she looked at Jon. “What do you think?”

 

“Tyrion, talk to Jaime. Maybe if he can talk to her and get her to surrender...”

 

“That’s not going to work...”

 

“You have to try,” Jon said emphatically. “You can’t condemn a child because of who his parents are.”

 

It suddenly dawned on Daenerys that he was speaking more from personal experience rather than an objective party. She looked at her Hand and nodded. “Talk to Jaime. Maybe he can figure out a way to do this without everyone in King’s Landing dying.” Tyrion nodded. “Leave us,” she said to both Davos and Tyrion and they did as ordered and closed the door behind them.

 

“What was it you said to me when I entered your hall? Don’t condemn a daughter for the sins of her father.”

 

“I did say that. I meant it, then. I mean it, now,” she said as she took his hand. “If there is a way, we will figure out how to...spare the child. Possibly send Jaime back to Casterly Rock.”

 

“I can’t imagine someone choosing another option.”

 

She took a steadying breath and spoke softly, “The situation we’re in is a special one. A lot of people, though, wouldn’t be so forgiving of Cersei and the Lannisters. Your own sister asked you for Jaime’s head. It’s not so easy for everyone to separate the parents from the child.”

 

“Caitlyn never could,” he responded.

 

She moved to the floor and knelt in front of him and cupped his face with her good arm. “I’m sorry that you were treated that way. I would give anything to erase that pain. You didn’t deserve it. But as I told you, any other way and you might not be alive. She would have treated you differently if she had known. Allowing her to believe that you were Ned Stark’s bastard kept you alive. It was terrible for you, I know. I can see it on your face when you think of it. But he protected you.”

 

He captured her hand in his and kissed the tips of her fingers. “Get off the floor,” he said softly. “It wouldn’t do for someone to come into the room and find  _ you  _ kneeling in front of me.”

 

She gave him a small smile. “If only they knew how quickly I would fall to my knees for you.” She stood and he leaned forward and rested his head against her belly. She moved her fingers through his dark hair at his nape. He looked up at her and she traced the scar above his eye. “You carry too much of this on your own.”

 

He smiled. “I think that will be a common theme during our marriage and rule.”

 

She leaned down and kissed him. “Long may we reign.”

  
  



	39. Arya VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Daenerys talk to Gendry and Arya about their plans south. Arya finally gets what she wants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your support for this story!

**ARYA**

 

“My lady?” Arya stopped walking and turned to Maester Wolken, who no matter how many times she told not to call her that insisted. She’d stopped correcting him days ago. Gendry turned as well, always at her side, his Warhammer in his hand at his side. If she had been Sansa or any other foolish girls that thought she needed protecting, she would have found his constant presence at her side romantic. Arya was beyond that. Or so she told everyone that would listen, including her protector. She would never allow him to know how much she liked him being with her. He already knew she cared about him, more than she would like to admit. She scoffed at herself. It was more than care. She loved him.

 

“Yes?” she asked.

 

“Your brother has requested an audience with you and Lord Gendry.”

  
She tried to keep herself from laughing as Gendry rolled his eyes at the title. “Bran or Jon?”

 

“King Jon,” he responded. “He’s in his study.”

 

She nodded and sighed. Her current adversary was stairs. She could make it up to them, but it was a long and laborious procedure. Some days she wished Gendry would get frustrated with her slow pace and simply carry her up the flight. He didn’t, and she didn’t ask. She could do it herself, though it took a lot out of her. She knew if she climbed the flight to see Jon, she would not walk back down them the rest of the day. They would simply retire to their room where she would try her hardest to seduce Gendry. He was being more bullheaded than ever and it was frustrating. She wasn’t incapable of doing anything, but he wouldn’t relent and it was causing her ire to peak more than usual. If she was honest, her irritation at Gendry refusing her had caused her to throw her crutch at Brienne. Sansa deserved it.

 

Arya gave him and nod and they changed course into the keep. “Wonder if he’s going to insist we get married.”

 

Gendry shook his head. “If he was going to do that he would have said something earlier.”

 

As they entered the castle, she put a little more weight on her leg. She could feel the muscle stretching and even where the skin was pulled together. She hated feeling so weak. She was one of the deadliest killers in all of Winterfell, but now she was being beaten by her own body.  Gendry followed behind her as she made her way up the stairs, putting her foot down and actually distributing her weight more evenly. She smiled in triumph as she made it up the stairs in half the time she had the day before. Arya only hoped he would take that as a sign that she was truly on the mend and that he didn’t have to treat her like she was going to break if he touched her.

 

She knocked on the study door and Daenerys opened it to let them in. “I’ll leave you alone.”

 

Jon’s voice stopped her. “Actually, it might be best if you stayed.”

 

Arya and Gendry moved inside and she moved to stand before him where he was sitting. Jon nodded at the chair for Arya to sit but she hated being told what to do and so she refused. Gendry, however, put a hand on her shoulder and pulled her backward into the seat and she glared up at him. “I will hurt you.”

 

“So you keep saying,” he said, looking unintimidated by the threat.

 

Daenerys had walked to stand beside Jon, a soft smile on her face. “You seem to be getting around better.”

 

“I’m moving around well enough. Once people stop treating me like I’ll break, I’ll be even better.”

 

“Daenerys and I have been talking about the war to come. We defeated the dead, but Cersei still sits on the Iron Throne and the people suffer for it.”

 

Arya nodded. “No surprise there.”

 

Jon sighed. “We believe have an army that can defeat her. But we need to remove her allies, anyone that could be loyal to her.”

  
Gendry frowned. “You want Arya to kill them?”

 

Jon glanced up at Daenerys and then shook his head. “No. We need the heir to Robert Baratheon.”

 

Arya looked up at Gendry and could see his face pale. “Need me for what?”

 

“You’re the heir to the Storm Lands. To Storm’s End. It’s one of the large houses of the South. We’ve already called you Robert’s son. It would only take a word from us to the Citadel to make you Gendry Baratheon on paper. But, more importantly, we _need_ you to be Gendry Baratheon.”

 

“Why?”

 

“We want you to go to Storm’s End. We want you to see if you can rally them to our side.”

 

Arya shook her head. “And what if they decide they don’t want to honor Robert’s son? What if they decide to kill him?”

 

“That’s why you’d go with him.”

 

She shook her head. “I’m going to King’s Landing. I will be the one to kill Cersei.”

 

Jon shook his head. “We need something different from you, Arya. We need you to go with him, to make his claim. We need a Lady of Winterfell, a true Lady of the North, to be united with the heir to Storm’s End. I’m not saying you have to marry him. I would _never_ force that on you. But I do need you to be aligned.”

 

“And if they refuse?”

 

“We’re not sending you alone. You will go with a host of Dothraki and Unsullied.”

 

“So, you want me to ride South, claim Storm’s End with foreign warriors?”

 

Arya shook her head. “This is a bad idea.”

 

“Are you saying that because you want to be the one to kill Cersei or do you actually believe it to be a bad idea?” Daenerys asked, her eyebrow raising slightly. Arya felt unease at how well she was able to read her. When she continued to speak, Arya begrudgingly respected her more, “I understand wanting revenge. Wanting to watch everyone who’s caused you nothing but misery to die. But sometimes we have to serve a higher purpose. Jon doesn’t wish to be King. But he is the heir. He is the King I choose. We all do things we don’t want to do because it will make other people’s lives better.”

 

Gendry scowled. “This is mad. Why would anyone follow me?”

 

Jon smirked. “I ask myself that all the time. You know who you are. It’s hard when most of your life you question why you were even born, much less is the world better because you’re here. If anyone understands that, I do. I don’t want to be King. I thought at most I would be First Ranger of the Night’s Watch. I was content with that. Fate has given me something different. I can still protect the realm, but better now than I could have before.”

 

Arya frowned. “What is it you want us to do?”

 

“We’ll send word to the Citadel that we’ve legitimized you as Gendry Baratheon. We’ll let them distribute word. And we’ll have Varys’s little birds send word back if there is interest in having you claim the Storm Lands. If there is, we would send you south before us, both of you, and ask you to take what belonged to your father. You come from a line of men who knew what they wanted and what they were. I met Stannis. He was absolute in his right to be King. I need you to be absolute in your right to the Storm Lands.”

 

He shook his head. “This is asking a lot.”

 

Jon frowned and nodded. “It is. It’s a heavy burned that we’re laying on you. Both of you. Cersei will be defeated, how remains to be seen. But we need to at least try this approach.”

 

“It puts a target on Gendry,” Arya said. “All of this puts everyone here in danger. Not only is the King in the North aligned with the Mother of Dragons, but now you’re asking Gendry to be the legitimate heir to Robert Baratheon. What do you think Cersei will do? We’ll be lucky she doesn’t try to have us all slaughtered in our beds.”

 

Jon nodded. “Which is why we’re discussing this. I wouldn’t do anything without asking you. I called you Gendry Baratheon in a hall of Lords because I wanted them to respect you as someone other than my sister’s...consort.” Arya nearly smiled at how hard it was for Jon to say the word ‘consort’, but the seriousness of the situation blocked any of the levity out of it. “They needed to know a warrior was on the field. Robert’s fight with Rhaegar in the Trident is one of legend. You have a war hammer. Many of those men fought alongside your father. They respect the name. Others will as well.”

 

Arya looked up at Gendry and could see he was conflicted. She turned back to Jon and Daenerys. “You’ll let us discuss it?”

 

Daenerys nodded. “Of course. Take your time. Jon won’t be ready to march south anytime soon. And we still have a wedding to occupy our time until then.”

 

Arya nodded and stood. She took a deep breath and looked at them, Daenerys’s hand still nestled in Jon’s. “I’m sorry you can’t have children.”

 

Daenerys smiled weakly at her. “Thank you.”

 

She gave one last nod and they left the room. Gendry leaned against the wall once the door was shut then dropped his hammer against the stone. He put his head in his hands, her heart ached for him, and so she reached out and touched his shoulder. “Gendry?” He looked up at her, frustration and anger written over his features. She stepped closer to him. “Let’s retire and we’ll talk,” she whispered.

 

He gave her a nod and followed her down the hall, and noticed that the hammer seemed to be heavier to him now.

 

*~*

 

Arya had dinner brought up to her room for both of them and he had remained silent since they had returned. She thought he would start talking, but she should have known that the stubborn bull wouldn’t relent so easily. They ate in silence as well and it was starting to make her angry.

 

When they finished and she watched him remove his jerkin, she knew she would have to be the one to talk first. She was seated on the edge of the bed and had removed one boot and was slowly working on the other. “I thought we were going to talk.”

 

He pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it to the floor. She was nearly distracted from the seriousness of the conversation by the fact that a shirtless Gendry left her somewhat breathless.

 

“I don’t know what to say,” he said as he sat beside her on the bed. “I never intended any of this when I told Jon who I was.”

 

“I know. You’re nothing if not humble.”

 

He sighed. “What do you think?”

 

“I think the whole idea is flawed. It’s asking people to believe something that no one can confirm.” She looped her arms through his and rested her head on his shoulder. “It feels so much bigger than us.”

 

“It is. It’s about the good of the realm.”

 

She looked up at him and leaned her forehead against his shoulder and entwined his fingers with hers. “I simply wanted to ride south and kill Cersei. It seems as if that’s being taken from me.”

 

“And a new burden is being put in place,” he responded.

 

“It would technically make you the heir after Jon and Daenerys. You could sit on the Iron Throne.”

 

He rolled his eyes. “That’s all I need,” he muttered and she smiled. “If they live long enough, Jon and Daenerys, then it could potentially be our children that would sit on the throne.”

  
“Children? You think I’m having more than one?”

 

He smiled. “I don’t care. I only wanted to be with you. The fact that any of this is happening is...more than I ever thought I would get. But I’m not sure I want any of it.”

 

Arya nodded. “You don’t have to decide now.”

 

“This is beyond frustrating,” he responded, squeezing her hand.

 

She nodded. “I’m sorry. This sends all of our plans to the wayside.”

 

“Using the ‘good of the realm’ was rather ingenious. It’s hard to say ‘no’ when you think you could potentially save the lives of thousands of people.”

 

She stood and put her hands on his knees. “Whatever you decide, I’ll be with you. Gendry Baratheon or Gendry Waters, you’re still my stubborn bull.” She turned her back to him. “Now help me get this thing off,” she ordered.

 

He began untying the laces. “I know one thing, even if I did accept their offer, you’d still order me around.”

 

She smirked. “Why would that change?”

 

He finished and tugged it over her head and pulled her closer by her tunic. “I don’t want it to.” She leaned forward and kissed him, her hands cupping his face. “Let’s not start something we won’t finish...”

 

“Don’t give me that,” Arya huffed. “You’re going to finish me,” she said as she bit at his lips.

 

He smirked against her lips. “Oh, am I?” She tugged her tunic off with her one good arm and pressed her lips to his as she moved her hands down to the laces of his leathers.  He captured her wrists and pulled away from her. He released one of her hands and brought his fingers to the bandage that sat around her shoulder. “I know you hate this and me for saying it, but you’re still injured and I don’t want to hurt you.”

 

She shook her head and moved even closer to him. “You won’t. I promise. If you do, you know I’ll tell you,” she said as her lips moved down his neck.

 

She felt his fingers on the bare skin of her back and gooseflesh where Gendry touched. “You make it very hard to say ‘no’.”

 

She grinned against his skin. “I want to make it impossible.” She dropped her hands back to the laces and slipped her hands inside and he groaned her name as she felt him swell beneath her fingers. He gasped as she pumped over his heated flesh.

 

He grabbed her wrists and stopped her again and he stood. She was nearly ready to throw him out when she felt him untie the top of her leathers and then tugged them down gently. He turned them so her back was against the bed and he pushed her to sit as he tugged her breeches gently down her legs, always mindful of her injury. He pulled her to the very edge of the bed and before she could protest at his manhandling of her, he was on his knees in front of her and his tongue was moving through her folds. She braced herself on her good arm and held the back of his head in place with her other. She’d been wanting this for so long, she could already feel her body trembling in response to him. He sucked her clit into his mouth and she fell back on the bed, helpless under his tongue.

 

“Gen-dry,” she moaned, nearly breathless as each swipe of his tongue brought her closer. She was pulled tight like a bow, so close to snapping. She nearly screamed when he pulled away from her and stood. But as he shed his leathers, she smiled in triumph. He couldn’t help himself either.

 

“You're okay?”

 

She nodded. “I’ll be better when you’re inside me,” she groaned as he rubbed himself against her folds, the tip of his cock rubbing against her clit. He put her good leg over his shoulder and her breath caught as he entered her in one hard thrust.

 

Gendry braced his hands on the bed by her shoulders, each stroke a long slow pull out before slamming his hips forward hard. She slid her hands over his arms and up to his shoulders and finally cupping his face, locking eyes with his. Arya could see his affection for her on his face, the moments with him like this being when he was the most unguarded.

 

She was creating closer and closer and he changed the pace of his thrust shorter and more shallow. Arya rolled her hips against his, getting the friction she needed and she snapped, her climax rolling over her, causing her to shake beneath him. She was beyond thought or words. It had been too long. She barely registered his groan and only opened her eyes in time to watch him drop his head, his face scrunched up as he gasped her name.

 

She smiled, feeling spent and content. It was a few moments before Gendry withdrew from her and stood back. He grimaced. “Fuck,” he said as he moved away from her and over to the table beside the bed to grab fresh linens. She looked down and saw that the bandage around her leg had red splotches on it.

 

As she sat up, she could see that he was angry. She stilled his hands. “Stop. You didn’t hurt me.” He didn’t look convinced. “I wouldn’t lie to you. You know that. It doesn’t hurt. In fact, this is the best I’ve felt in over a week.”

 

“You’re still bleeding.”

 

She cupped his face, a teasing smile on her face. “Barely.”

 

He rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. He tugged his leathers on once more and went about replacing her bandage. She stared at him, his face a study in concentration as he examined the wound. None of the stitches had come undone, but the seem of the wound was bleeding a bit. Maybe they simply needed to get more creative in how they did it. When he tied off the bandage he threw the soiled linen onto the table beside the bed. She continued to smile at him and he looked aggrieved. “Proud of yourself?”

 

She nodded. “I am. Aren’t you?”

 

“I’ll answer that when you stop bleeding.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “How can you be so unhappy after that?”

 

He sighed and put his hands on either side of her hips and leaned forward. “I’m not unhappy about that and you know it.”

 

Arya smirked and kissed him. “I’m not hurt, I promise. I wouldn’t let you hurt me. You know that, right?”

 

He nodded. “Let’s see how you feel in the morning.”

 

“And if I’m fine we can do it again?”

 

He tilted his head a wary smile on his lips. She loved him. She wondered if that made her weaker or stronger. “Well, it would be wrong to waste the opportunity...”

 

Arya smiled in response, knowing that he made her stronger. There was no weakness in them. They were certain about one another. If the rest of the world were so easy to figure out as her feelings for him, then the wars would be over and the killing would be done. He was hers. She was his. “So, I should appeal to your sense of right and wrong?” He smirked at her and she bit gently along his jaw to his ear and whispered. “Then you owe me _days_ worth of your mouth and cock.”

 

The sound of his chuckle shot straight through her and caused her to shiver. “You have a filthy mouth for a lady.”

 

She grinned. “You have no idea.” She could see that he was clenching his teeth and she brought his lips against hers, tasting herself on his tongue.

 

His arms moved around her waist and he broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers and sighed. “I wish it could just be us, forever.”

 

She wrapped her arms around his waist. Never in her life had she imagined that she would be able to bring someone comfort. But she would try for the man in front of her. “It will be us, forever. We simply might have other things that go along with it.”

 

He placed a chaste kiss on her lips then her nose. “You should get some sleep.”

 

“What about you?”

 

He sighed. “Not sure I can sleep.”

 

“I can’t sleep without you. Take off your pants and get in this bed," she laughed, hoping she broke the seriousness of the moment and when Gendry chuckled, she knew she had succeeded a bit.

 

“You’re really determined when you want something.” He pulled back from her though, walked to the other side of the bed and shed his pants as she requested. She moved over to him and lay facing him, her head resting on his bicep as his fingers traced over her back. He pulled the furs over them and she fit snugly against him.

 

“All joking aside, I’m with you. Whatever you do. I’m at your side,” she whispered.

 

He turned towards her a bit more, his other arm resting on her hip. He rested his lips against her brow and she heard him sigh. She hated this had all been laid upon him, but she knew they would survive this. Whatever Gendry decided, he was her future and she wouldn’t leave him to go through any of it alone.


	40. Sansa VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa shows Daenerys her wedding dress. She also gets some training with her sword and a conversation with Arya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not be around much this weekend. We've had a family emergency and that is requiring my attention. I probably won't update Saturday or Sunday, but updates will definitely resume on Monday.

  


**SANSA**

 

Sansa stared at Daenerys as the maids laced up the dress that she’d had made for her wedding dress. The material was heavy as it would take place in the Godswood and the silver-haired beauty examined it as in the looking glass. When the maids finished, she brushed her hands over the front of the dress. The dress wasn’t white, but silver and it almost seemed to shimmer in the torchlight. Daenerys examined it from all angles then looked at Sansa. “It’s beautiful.”

 

She smiled and stepped forward and pointed out the hemline. “It will need to be taken up just a bit. We don’t want you to trip on it,” she said and the maid began to mark the dress where it would need to be hemmed. Sansa turned and unwrapped the cloak she’d made to go with the dress with a white fox draped across the neck with a red ribbon to tie it together. 

 

When the maid finished, Sansa stood behind her and helped to drape it over her shoulders. Daenerys smiled and looked up at her. “This is...beyond words,” she said softly. “You have such a talent for this.”

 

Sansa sighed. “My mother made sure I knew how to do all of these things. Embroidery, sewing, it’s something that calms me.”

 

Daenerys smiled. “I love both the dress and the cloak.”

 

She gave her a wide smile. “I hope both survive your wedding night.”

 

She chuckled. “It has been a while,” she said as she untied the ribbon and handed the cloak back to her. “I’ll simply make sure he knows that if he tears it I’ll let Drogon eat him,” she jested.

 

Sansa shook her head. “I’ve seen him around those dragons. I don’t think Drogon would comply.”

 

Daenerys scoffed. “Yes. They are quite enamored with him. Which is good. It made him able to ride Rhaegal into battle,” she said as the maid helped her remove her clothes and Sansa turned her back to give her privacy. “What about you, Sansa? Not that Jon or I would ever force you to marry, but would you want to?”

 

Sansa folded the cloak away, careful to keep it from the floor. “I haven’t yet decided.”

 

She turned as Daenerys stood beside her and she nodded for the maid to leave them, and she took her leave with Daenerys’s dress. “I’ve not heard fully what happened to you. I know bits and pieces of what people are willing to disclose. What I know is that our stories are far too similar. Sold, betrayed, raped, and used. This world is harsh to women and when  _ we _ become so they call us mad or seek to tame us.” She tilted her head. “Olenna Tyrell told me once that I need to be the dragon that I am. I was surrounded by intelligent men who would lead me their way, but do not listen to them and to trust myself. Be the wolf, Sansa. Don’t apologize for what makes you strong. Don’t ever apologize for your strength. People would seek to destroy or distort it.” She moved over to the mirror once more and made sure her dress sat on her shoulders the way she wanted.

 

She thought of Olenna Tyrell which led her to think of Margaery. She missed her sometimes. Cersei had killed her like she’d killed so many. Margaery deserved better, though. “The problem with most men is they see women as a means to an end. They want us for one thing and they don’t see beyond that,” she turned to face her. “It is their weakness. We were made better, stronger, than they were. It is our strength they fear.”

 

“Not all men,” Sansa answered.

 

She smiled. “No. Not all men. Most. Since I’ve been in Winterfell that seems to be the exception, especially with members of your house.”

 

“Jon told me your first meeting was not an easy one.”

 

Daenerys shook her head. “Indeed it was not. I thought when Tyrion sent the raven he made it very clear that if Jon came south to see me it would be to bend the knee and pledge fealty. He refused. He brought up my father killing your uncle and grandfather. I asked for forgiveness for the actions of my father. I know what he was. Tyrion has made no small effort to tell me. I think sometimes he worries that I am like him. Your brother seemed a bit surprised when I apologized.”

 

“I’m sure he was. We grew up on stories of our father overthrowing yours. Of Robert defeating Rhaegar and how our aunt was kidnapped and raped. To now find out that Robert’s entire rebellion, my grandfather’s entire reason for going South was built on a lie...” she frowned. “Why didn’t she tell anyone?”

 

Daenerys sat in one of the chairs and tilted her head at Sansa. “Because she loved him whether or not it was right. Had she told her father, it wouldn’t have mattered. She was betrothed to Robert. They would have made sure she married him. I don’t know why they never sent word that she left with him of her own accord. How many lives would it have saved? But had anything gone differently, all of this might not exist. Jon might not exist,” she said softly. “My brother made foolish mistakes. More than I can count. But, Bran assures me that he loved her and she loved him. I find it hard to condemn people who love one another when this world tries to crush it at every turn.”

 

Sansa sat across from her and heaved a sigh. “How do you not hate Jaime for killing your father? Because I would watch Joffrey and Cersei die every day for killing mine.”

 

Daenerys looked at her hands and sighed. “I believe a part of me does hate him. When my father died my life on the run began. I never felt safe. I never believed there would be a time that I could just breathe freely. But, I’ve spoken with Tyrion. I’ve heard about the caches of wildfire that were beneath the city. I know his final words were ‘burn them all’. He was cruel and mad.” She shook her head. “What would we have done in that position if we could have saved thousands of people? Would I have been able to stop him? Would you?”

 

Sansa frowned. “I don’t know.”

 

“Neither do I. It’s why I can’t order him to be killed. He also turned his back on his sister. I know of their relationship. I know that right now she is carrying his child and that makes me conflicted.” Sansa’s eyes widened as she didn’t know about Cersei and anger burned inside her. How could they be so foolish? “Not that it’s his, but that a baby is sitting in her womb, and though she is evil, the child has the chance to not be so,” she looked at her hands. 

 

“And I can not have children and part of me wants to rip her apart with my bare hands because how could someone so horrible be allowed the beauty of having a child? How can she reap onto this world what she does not deserve?” Daenerys was fighting back tears and Sansa reached forward and took her hand. She blinked back the tears and shook her head and swallowed the obvious lump in her throat. “Though I feel it is my right to claim the throne, how deserving of it am I if I can’t produce an heir to see out my vision?”

 

Sansa squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Jon knows?”

 

She nodded. “We’ve discussed it. I made sure he understood that it wasn’t a possibility. He doesn’t seem to feel that it’s a worthy enough reason to end our union. I love him for it, but I pity him as well. He deserves better.”

 

Daenerys stood and Sansa watched as she put her back to her and wiped her eyes. “You’re going to be queen. I believe you and Jon will make this kingdom better for your rule. It won’t be easy. Nothing in this world ever seems to be. But I think you’ll get what you wanted from the throne.”

 

She turned and looked at Sansa. “Thank you.” She sighed. “I feared coming North and meeting you. Meeting all of you. I thought you would all hate me, shun me. I was Targaryen and your brother had bent the knee. I was sure you’d see me as a monster. I dreaded it.” She smiled. “I should have known better. Jon surprised me at every turn; I should have expected his siblings would have done the same.”

 

Sansa frowned. “You still call us his siblings. For him to actually claim the Iron Throne, won’t he have to be Aegon Targaryen.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “Yes. I know that. I think somewhere inside him, he knows it, too. But to me, he’ll always be Jon. And he considers himself your brother. It would be a disservice to him and all of you to think of you in any other terms.”

 

Sansa gave her a half smile. “I’ll admit I was wary of meeting you. I knew if Tyrion was at your side, you couldn’t be as horrible as we’d heard. He’s too smart to follow a fool or tyrant.”

 

She sighed. “No, he does not suffer fools. And I don’t believe he would suffer a tyrant, either. He tries to control my impulses. He fails at times. But I don’t look back in regret. If I do...I lose my place. I can’t second guess my choices, though part of me always wants to. I have to have faith in myself. Now I have faith in Jon.” 

 

Sansa frowned and decided to be honest with Daenerys. “Ramsay was cruel. Sadistic. If you only counted what he did to me...he would be a monster. But there was more than me. Theon...he destroyed him. Kept him in the kennels. Made him watch as he raped me on our wedding night,” she said and swiped at the traitorous tear that slid down her face. “He used knives, and though it’s been over a year, I still feel the things he did to me. I think of it less,” she said as she lowered her head. “I think of him less. All the monsters in my life blend into one and it fills me with hatred and fear. It makes me feel weak, and I hate that more.”

 

Daenerys moved over to Sansa and took her hand. “We are more than the horrors inflicted upon us. You are the Lady of Winterfell. You slew your monster. Fed him to his own. I can not think of a more fitting death for someone like him,” she said emphatically. “You are no one’s victim, Sansa Stark.

 

Sansa stood and nodded. “I’ll never be a victim again. I’ll not suffer fools or monsters. The lessons I learned were hard and unforgiving. But I learned them, just the same.”

 

A knock sounded at the door and Brienne appeared in the doorway. “Lady Sansa, you requested that we train with your new sword before sunset.”

 

She smiled and nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll need to stop by my room and change,” she said as she walked to the door and turned one last time to Daenerys. “You’ll make a beautiful bride. And a good queen,” she said with a smile before she left the room.

 

Brienne escorted Sansa down the hall to her room. “Are you alright, my lady?”

 

She nodded. “I’m fine. Ready to learn how to defend myself,” she said as she entered her room and left Brienne guarding her door.

 

*~*

 

Arya huffed out a breath from where she stood against the wall watching Sansa. She hated hearing the irritation in her sister’s sigh, but she thought it was a bit unrealistic that Arya expected her to pick this up so fast. 

 

Brienne swung her sword and Sansa ended up in the mud on her arse and she felt both embarrassment and irritation. Brienne extended a hand to Sansa to help her up and she looked between the two women. “What am I doing wrong?”

 

“You’re trying to fight her the way she fights,” Arya answered. “Your sword isn’t made for that,” she responded. “You had a smaller sword made because you wanted to learn how to be more fluid and the other was too heavy. Don’t fight like Brienne. You’ll never beat her if you fight her way.”

 

“Well, you’re not well enough to show me how to fight your way, so this is what I have to work with,” she responded, irritation coloring her tone.

 

“Show me your stance,” Arya said and Sansa stood with her sword in front of her, both hands on the hilt. “You can’t stand like that. Turn your body sideways,” she said and demonstrated for Sansa. “It’s a smaller target,” she explained.

 

“That makes holding the sword more awkward,” she responded as she held the sword out in front of her. 

 

“Stop trying to fight with two hands,” Jaime’s voice sounded behind her and he walked towards them. “Your sword is meant for only one,” he explained. “Which is your dominate?”

 

“My right,” she said. 

 

“Hold your sword aloft in your right hand and use your left to keep your balance.” She glanced at Arya who nodded. She lifted her hand, her sword held in her right hand out in front of her. “Arya is lower to the ground, it takes less to balance her. With your tall frame, you need your left hand to counter your movements with your right. As you swivel and turn, keep your left close to you, but far enough that the movement propels you into the next.”

 

He nodded at Brienne who swung her sword at Sansa in a downward sweep and he pulled back on her shoulder and used his left hand to direct her movement backwards as her right blocked the blow from Brienne’s sword.

 

She looked up at Brienne and then Arya with a smile. Arya clapped from her position on the wall and it was then Sansa noticed Tyrion was standing beside her. “My lady, money couldn’t buy the quality of the teachers you have at your disposal. Well done.”

 

Sansa curtseyed to him and then turned to Jaime and nodded. “Thank you.”

 

Arya’s voice broke through the small exchange. “You have a long way to go, but if I know you at all, you’ll be able to have this mastered. You were always good with your sewing needles.”

 

Sansa sheathed her sword at her side. “You’re rather exceptional with your own Needle, sister.”

 

Arya smirked. “Stick them with the pointy end,” she said as she reached for her crutch. “In two days, I’m done with this. And then you’ll face me, Brienne.”

 

The other woman nodded. “I look forward to it, my lady.”

 

She shook her head. “I’m not a lady,” she said as she started back towards the keep. 

 

Tyrion nodded. “She’s rather fearsome, your sister.”

 

She nodded. “She’d kill you if she needed to.”

 

Tyrion smirked. “I’ll make sure she the need doesn’t arise. I’m glad to see you’re training with a sword.”

 

“Enough people suggested it. I thought they couldn’t all be wrong.”

 

“I don’t know, my lady, I tend to not listen to what  _ everyone  _ says. It’s a dangerous game. Most people are sheep.”

 

“It’s a good thing I’m a wolf and you’re lion.”

 

He nodded. “It is, indeed. I actually came out here looking for the queen. Have you seen her?”

 

She shook her head. “Not in a while. Jon either, for that matter.”

 

“Ah,” he said with a smirk. “They’re either flying or...or.”

 

Sansa blushed a bit. “I don’t know. She suggested to me that they weren’t currently doing that,” she said lowly. “Wherever they are, I’m sure they’re together.”

 

“Undoubtedly. I’ll continue searching.”

 

“Tyrion, you should have one of the Dothraki with you. Don’t chance someone wanting you dead.”

 

He nodded. “Very good advice,  _ wife _ .”

 

“Don’t make me stab you with my new sword.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of being your first victim,” he said as he walked away. 

 

She called one of the Stark guards over to her. “Walk with Lord Tyrion and don’t let anyone hurt him,” she ordered. The guard nodded and followed Tyrion and obviously told him of her order for he turned and bowed his head in thanks at her.

 

She turned back to Brienne who was still speaking with Jaime and she approached them slowly. “With Bronn gone, I need to keep my skills sharp. You’re the only one I trust to train with, besides the Hound, but he swings like he aims to kill me, and I don’t know whether I can trust him not to.”

 

Sansa smirked thinking about the man that Joffrey called his dog. He was rough and mean to most people. He’d scared her more often than not when she’d been in King’s Landing. But she did remember that he had tried to get her to leave with him. She wondered what her life would have been if she had. Would she had ended up with Arya sooner? Would they have been killed? Would she have made it to Robb and her mother before they were killed? Would she have been with them at the end? There were so many questions. But she remembered what Daenerys had said about not looking back.

 

There was so much to her life that she could regret. But she was here and alive now. Maybe looking back and holding onto it all only made what she felt worse.

 

Brienne nodded. “I train with Podrick in the morning and evening. I suppose I could train with you as well.”

 

Sansa nodded and responded, “You should. You need someone with skill to fight against until Arya finally decides to pitch her crutch out the window. The Hound has gone off with Tormund hunting for the keep. No sense in letting either of your skills with the sword lax because of training with others. If you’re too tired to train with me, I can get Arya or even Jon for that matter to help me.”

 

Brienne nodded and Jaime turned to face her. “Thank you.”

 

“Your welcome. I believe dinner is probably ready to be served. I’d like to change before,” she said as she glanced at Brienne. 

 

“Of course, my lady.”

 

Sansa noticed Podrick walking into the clearing. “But if this your time to train with Podrick, I can see myself into the keep.”

 

“No, my lady, I can wait to train later...”

 

“Nonsense,” Sansa responded. “You still have daylight. Use it,” she said as she turned to walk back inside. 

 

“I’ll escort her,” Jaime said with a nod to Brienne and Sansa didn’t refuse the request, realizing it would have seemed rude and she was above being outwardly rude to people. They walked along in silence. 

 

“You really don’t have to walk me,” she said softly. “I think I’m probably safe now.”

 

“This world is never safe,” he responded. 

 

She heaved a sigh. “No, it’s not.”

 

As they entered the keep, she stomped her boots, trying to get rid of the mud and snow. “That’s a fine sword,” he said as he nodded to the piece hanging at her waist. “Did you know what you were asking for when he made it for you?”

 

She shook her head. “No. I only knew I needed something lighter than what I was using. Everyone seems to have suggestions on what I need and how I should do it.”

 

Jaime sighed. “There is a rhythm to fighting with a sword. Everyone has their way of doing it. Brienne and the Hound use their strength and skill. Your sister is quick and nimble. Bronn liked to punch me in the face as often as he could because as he said, always assume that people want to punch me.”

 

She nodded and began walking to her room, a small smile on her face. “I watched the two of you spar often enough. You got him a time or two.”

 

“He bested me more than I did him.”

 

She stopped walking. “At what point do you stop feeling sorry for yourself about your hand?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

She shrugged. “You can’t bring it back. You can’t change it. At this point, you’re left to learn to live without it or dwell on the loss forever. You lost it when you thwarted men from raping Brienne. It’s hard on you, I’m sure. But what good does dwelling do?”

 

He frowned as something flashed behind his eyes and it made her a bit nervous. “I told you I’m not good of letting go of the past.”

 

“I’m not either. But maybe that’s something we could both learn,” she said as she continued walking to her room. She stopped outside her door. “Thank you for escorting me to my room.”

 

He nodded and turned to walk down the hallway away from her room. She opened the door and found Arya laying back on her bed staring at the ceiling. “What are you doing?” Sansa asked.

 

“Oh, just waiting for my sister,” she said as she stared at the stone above her. “When I was little, Mother and Father would let me crawl into the bed with them on a very rare occasion. I once counted all the stones on the ceiling outloud. I don’t know how they tolerated me.”

 

“You had a habit of weaseling your way into people’s hearts,” she answered as she removed her boots and put them by the fire. “Why are you in my room?”

 

Arya sighed and sat up on the bed. “Jon and Daenerys want Gendry to go to Storm’s End and claim it as Robert’s heir.”

 

Sansa moved to sit at her feet. “When did they tell you this?”

 

“A few days ago. Gendry and I have been talking about it at length. He’s tired of the conversation. I’m tired of it. But we have no solution. It ends with Gendry and I married and whatever children we have as the potential heirs.”

 

Sansa could sense her unease. “And...something about that bothers you?”

 

“All of it is terrifying. So many questions.”

 

Sansa stood and began changing her clothes and put on one of her dark dresses and turned her back to Arya who helped lace her up. “What’s your biggest fear?”

 

“That I end up trapped somewhere and Gendry and I drift apart.” Sansa sighed and the room was silent as she felt her dress close up along the back and Arya tie it off. “It’s not perfect. If you want it done better than that, call one of your maids,” she said, though there was no anger to her tone. 

 

Sansa turned to face Arya where she sat on the bed and then sat beside her once more. “Do you really think this would cause you to drift apart?”

 

Arya shook her head. “I don’t know. I thought about going to King’s Landing and killing Cersei. When I knew Jon was going South, that was my focus. Gendry would be at my side and I would kill her for the misery she inflicted upon us. For Father. But if we go to Storm’s End...we might not leave. He could be stuck there and...Gendry could become a Lord. I never wanted to be with a Lord.”

 

She took Arya’s hand. “Do you believe that the title would change him?”

 

Arya paused a moment and then looked at Sansa, shaking her head. “No. But what if it changes me? I’ll never be a lady like you.”

 

“Good. Be your own. Gendry wants you because of who you are. He knows all those things about you that you fear letting someone see. He hasn’t run screaming from the keep. Chances are, he won’t.”

 

“And if I feel trapped?”

 

“You’re still a Lady of Winterfell. Maybe you’re a Lady who travels,” she said with a grin. “It would pain me if you left and never came back. We’ve traveled on such long and horrible roads that now I don’t want you to leave.”

 

“Yes, you’ve made that very clear.”

 

Sansa sighed. “Arya, did you ever think we would be in a position where you would come to my room and discuss the man you love?”

 

“Never.”

 

“Why would you think I would want that to end? You’re my sister. And I know you love Jon and Bran more than me. But I need you around. I feel stronger with you here. You have to know that.”

 

“I do. Sort of. I don’t understand it really.”

 

Sansa smiled. “I wondered about you often when I was travelling. What you were doing? Where you were? Were you alive? I wanted to see you and I knew if I did I wouldn’t allow our relationship to continue on the same horrid path it had been on when we parted. So, if I’ve argued in favor of you not going South, it’s only because I would give anything to keep you around. I don’t want to be parted from my family again. We’re a pack. The pack survives together.”

 

Arya squeezed her hand for a moment. “Let’s say you weren’t my sister and you were looking at this politically. You’re capable of doing that. What do you think of this plan for Gendry?”

 

Sansa was silent for a moment. “Your concern is the change to your relationship. Why does there need to be a change? Is it simply because you don’t want to marry a Lord because that’s what I would do?”

 

She frowned. “Maybe it’s more that I feel like that’s what others would want me to do.”

 

“You told me Gendry is your family. You can be a family here or in Storm’s End. And if Jon and Daenerys believe this helps them, I know you would do anything for Jon.”

 

Arya furrowed her brow. “I’m with Gendry no matter what he decides. I really hate that this choice is being put on him.”

 

“We don’t always get to chose what our path is. But you have a man who loves you and would give his life for you. That is so rare, Arya. I know you think very little of things like that. But consider my marriages. Take the man that loves you and go wherever he goes.”

 

“Allow him to dictate my life?”

 

“Do you think that’s what this is? Did he ask for this?”   
  


Arya scoffed. “No.”

 

“Then don’t assume the worst. You’ll make your choice that suits you. But don’t make it based on a fear. Make it based on what you and he want.”

 

Arya closed her eyes for a moment and frowned. “This conversation is confusing.”

 

Sansa smirked. “And surreal?”

 

“Extremely. But nice.”


	41. Jamie VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime's being forced to face the reality of what he left behind in King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let me start off by saying 'thank you' to everyone for all the support for this story. I never thought that when I started to post the chapters that I would receive this sort of response. I'm constantly amazed and humbled by it. It's why I try to take the time to respond to every comment I get, good or bad. Is this fic perfect? No. Is it fanservice? Abso-fucking-lutely. Is it going to be perfect? HELL NO. So, my advice is just to strap in and let's see what happens.
> 
> Second, thank you all for being understanding over the weekend about the lack of updates. I do this in order escape reality, but sometimes reality won't let you. 
> 
> Third, anyone who thinks that I would make Daenerys and Jon raise Cersei's baby has lost their ever-loving mind!

**JAIME**

 

The North had shit wine. It was something he had come to accept. The only time he got anything near what he wanted in quality was when he drank with Tyrion. He wasn’t keen on the company of his brother. Not since he’d started to hammer harder that they wanted him to go South with them. He was honest when he said he hadn’t made up his mind. Cersei was pregnant with his child and he’d ridden North to help their enemy.

 

Though, he didn’t much consider Jon Snow or Daenerys Targaryen his enemy. They weren’t his friends, but they also weren’t making strides to see him dead. He took another sip of the shit wine and leaned his head back against the chair in his room as he watched the snow fall outside. He was to train with Brienne first thing in the morning, and the truth was he didn’t actually know if his heart was in it. He knew he needed to keep up his training, to be ready at all times, but he didn’t like it as much anymore. He supposed it was the loss of his hand and his supreme confidence that he was one of, if not _the_ best.

 

He now held a miserable existence. There was nowhere he could go to be safe from Cersei. He doubted seriously if he was safe, now. Cersei would surely hate him and want him dead with haste. And if she hadn’t before, she certainly would now that Jon and Daenerys had won, and he’d helped. He tried to reconcile it in his head, to find the part of him that had insisted that he ride North. It was his pride, his honor. He’d abandoned both in the past. He hadn’t wanted to do it again.

 

There was a strange clanging coming from the courtyard beneath his room and he stood to see what it was. He watched as red hair flashed under the light of the moon. Sansa Stark, the cold Lady of Winterfell, chopped at a dummy made of straw, flexing her sword through her hand as her sister did. She’d obviously been watching Arya. Their swords were different, and so her fighting style had to be adjusted a bit. But she was getting better. He’d watched Arya and Sansa clanging swords, the younger girl never taking it easy on her. He had to admire Sansa’s dedication to learning how to protect herself. With the majority of her family traveling South soon, she would need the skill.

 

He sat back in his chair and continued to listen to her sword clanging off the steel that held up the dummy. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore that every now and then he could also hear her grunt float through the window. He felt like a disgusting old man for even entertaining the sort of thoughts that came to mind of Sansa at times. He liked her acerbic wit and was attracted to her careful planning and strategic mind. He thumped his head on the back of the chair, trying to talk himself out of his very foolish notion of going down to see her.

 

He stood again and watched her, the way she moved, her hair moving against her shoulders. He watched her for a few more moments, cursed himself for a fool, grabbed his cloak and left his room. He exited onto the pathway above her. The torchlight illuminated her a bit better, and he could see that she was dressed in the leathers and cape that was reminiscent of her sisters. She looked like a fierce warrior rather than a Lady of the Keep.

 

He walked down the stairs slowly and looked up at the snow that fell around them. The moon was now hidden behind clouds and the flame from the torches caused her bright red hair to look like flames as she moved. “You’re getting better,” he said finally and she turned and held the tip of the blade at his throat, her eyebrow raised and a slight smirk on her face.

 

He held up his hand and she lowered her arm. “Don’t you know it’s not nice to sneak up on people?”

 

He chuckled. “I never said I was nice.”

 

She tilted her head as she looked at him. “Do you really think I’m getting better?’

 

Jaime nodded. “You’ve learned how to distribute your weight on your feet better. Obviously, Arya has shown you how better to handle the sword as your flourishes are smoother.”

 

She sighed. “She makes me practice more than I thought I would have to. I figured it would be an hour with Brienne and then I’d be done for the day. Arya doesn’t seem to have that philosophy.”

 

“You don’t get her skill with the sword by only doing this for an hour a day. She’s young, but she fights as if she has years of practice. She was able to defeat Bronn and he was one of the best fighters I saw.”

 

She looked up at him then and frowned. “Who was the best?”

 

“Ser Arthur Dayne, and the only one close to him after that was Ser Barristan Selmy. Though, I suppose your father would have been close to them considering he defeated Dayne.”

 

Sansa looked at the sword in her hand and sighed. “I wonder a lot about what he would think of us. Jon, Arya, Bran and I. I wonder if he would be proud or ashamed. Arya’s nothing like the lady my mother would have wanted. Jon’s entangled with a Targaryen, the family he fought to overthrow, and Bran...well, Bran’s a special circumstance.”

 

“What would he think of you?”

 

She shrugged. “Hard to say. I think he’d be proud that I paid attention and learned so much about how to run the keep and how to prepare for winter. Then again, I don’t think he’d like that I’m learning to use a sword. He didn’t seem to have a problem with Arya learning, though.”

 

He frowned. “It’s better than knowing that you were a disappointment. But, at least this way, I don’t have to wonder what he would think of me.”

 

“Why was he disappointed in you? I mean, I can come up with reasons, but why do you think?” she asked, though there was the hint of a smile behind her words.

 

Jaime looked up as the moon peaked out from behind the clouds, illuminating the world around them in a white glow. Had he been anywhere else, he might have considered it beautiful. “I was the one who released Tyrion to kill him, that’s the first thing that comes to mind.”

 

She nodded. “If that one makes you a disappointment then I’m glad for it. Tyrion didn’t deserve to die for something he didn’t do.”

 

“They accused you, too.”

 

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have killed Joffrey with poison.”

 

“Feed him to dogs as well?”

 

She smirked. “Not to start. I’d probably removed all of his appendages first.” Jaime shifted uncomfortably. He knew what Joffrey was, but he was still his son. He hated how he died, how he watched helpless to save his life. “I won’t apologize for how I feel about Joffrey. He was a monster who tormented me, even after I married Tyrion. Threatened to rape me on my wedding night and he might have done it had your brother not already threatened him. As it turned out, I met a monster much worse than Joffrey. Who knew that one could exist?”

 

He frowned. “I’m sorry you suffered under their hands.”

 

“Yes, well, Ramsay was another of Littlefinger’s games.” She shook her head. “No sense in worrying about it now. They’re all gone, yet we remain.” She examined him for a moment and he almost felt uncomfortable beneath her gaze. “What of Cersei’s current pregnancy?”

 

He felt a headache starting and he wondered if it was the wine or the conversation. He reminded himself that he had inflicted both upon himself. “What are you asking me, my lady?”

 

“You knew she was pregnant when you left. But you still rode North. What will happen to your child when they eventually take King’s Landing?”

 

Jaime had thought on this a few times, but pushed it away most days. The knowledge that they would take the capital wasn’t lost on him. Even with the Golden Company in Cersei’s employ, Daenerys still had the numbers and two dragons. He looked up at Sansa and then moved to a stack of crates to sit on them and she moved with him, standing in front of him. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I even want to go South. It was easy to come North. It was the right thing to do. I don’t know what the right thing to do is in this situation.”

 

“You could talk her into surrendering,” she offered. “She’d eventually die, but your child would stand a chance at living. Maybe if you were the main influence in its life it wouldn’t turn into such a monster.”

 

“It’s easy for everyone to talk about her eventual death. But she’s my sister and was, for a very long time, the woman I loved. I don’t wish for her to die and I certainly don’t wish to see it.”

 

“Didn’t you help to establish her as the queen? You didn’t oppose her. You didn’t fight. You helped to put her where she is. Shouldn’t you be the one to help remove her?”

 

“Would you fight against Jon? Arya? Bran?”

 

She heaved a sigh and then shook her head. “I don’t know. I do know that I would do everything before that to make them see reason.”

 

“Perhaps I believe she’s beyond reason,” he said, turning his attention to her boots. Anything to avoid her penetrating gaze.

 

“She probably is. But perhaps it’s your duty to see that she can no longer hurt people. Perhaps you’re the only one who can. I won’t lie to you because frankly I don’t want to. I would watch Cersei die every day to make her pay for what she did to my family. But she means something to you and that means that you may be the only person in the entire world who could save it.”

 

His eyes met hers, he was on his feet and she took a step back. “I’m tired of fighting. I’m tired of feeling like the weight of the world is on my shoulders. Daenerys and Jon can remove her easily enough without me there to bear witness.”

 

Sansa shook her head. “They’re going to ask you. It is your choice. But if her and your child die and you thought for a second that you could have prevented it, you’d hate yourself more than you already do.” She bowed her head. “Good night, Jaime,” she said before she turned to walk away from him, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

 

She looked down at his hand, but he didn’t release her, instead he took a small step closer to her. “How is it you can read me so well?”

 

“You don’t hide your self-loathing like others. You wear it like armor,” she said softly. “You use it to push people away. I can read it because I do the same thing.”

 

He could see the cold blue of her eyes this close, could feel her breath on his face. He was stirred by her and it made him feel off balance. He hadn’t felt this way in years, everything with Cersei feeling practiced. Sansa made his world spin for some reason he couldn’t explain.

 

They were broken out of their moment by one of the guards. “Lady Sansa, are you alright?” he asked.

 

Jaime released her as they both turned to the guard. She nodded. “I’m fine,” she said then turned back to him and bowed her head again. “Good night, Jaime,” she said as she went back to the keep, the guard following her to the door of the keep and then standing outside it, letting him know that he wasn’t to follow her. Northron fools still treated him as if he was the enemy.

 

*~*

 

He was back in his room and another glass of terrible wine filled his belly, but he was no closer to sleep than he was before he’d gone out to the courtyard. He didn’t know what to do about Cersei. He felt like he was being pulled in two. He didn't want to watch her die. He loved her, just differently than he had before. He was out of sorts and nothing was helping to right him.

 

A knock on the door sounded and he didn’t move from his chair beside the window. “Who is it?” he asked.

 

“Sansa.”

 

He got to his feet and stared at the door for a moment, unsure if he should open it. He walked across the room slowly and opened the door and stepped back to allow her inside. She closed it behind her and took a deep breath. When she stepped forward, cupped his face and kissed him he was done. He cupped the back of her head, holding her to him as his mouth plundered hers.

 

When she broke the kiss he was horrified to see Cersei’s face and felt a sharp pain in his side as she had obviously stabbed him. He fell to his knees in front of her, staring up at her. “No one walks away from me.”

 

He sat up in his bed his body trembling and sweating. The fire had gone out and yet he was drenched. He ran his hand over his brow, his head pounding as hard as his heart. The light coming in through the window only made it worse. That combined with the horrific dream and he simply wanted to roll over and go back to sleep. The knock on his door prevented him from doing that. “What?”

 

“It’s your brother.”

 

He groaned. “Come back later.”

 

“I would, but I met Brienne on her way to fetch you and she asked me to collect you. Would you please open the door. I feel ridiculous talking to you through it.”

 

Jaime threw back the furs and pulled his tunic on as well as his leathers. He flung open the door. “You can tell Brienne I’ll be down soon,” he responded and made to close the door, but Tyrion stopped him and strode inside.

 

He found the empty cask of wine and frowned. “Why are you drinking this Northron piss? You know I have better in my chamber.”

 

“Yes, but to ask you for it would have required a conversation and I don’t feel much like talking.”

 

Tyrion turned to him, unfazed by his short temper. “Good. That means you can listen.”

 

“If this is about Cersei...”

 

“It is. Sit down.”

 

“I don’t want to talk about Cersei. I don’t want to talk about any of it. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

 

Tyrion didn’t react to his outburst so he continued on as if Jaime hadn’t spoken. “You may be the only person that she’ll listen to.”

 

“No. She tried to have me killed. Why would she ever listen to me?”

 

“You’re the father of her child. The man she loves.”

  
“Loved. Remember, the part about trying to kill me.”

 

“We both know if she wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. It has to mean something that you aren’t.”

 

Jaime sat on the edge of the bed. “So, you’re sent here to talk me into killing our sister? The woman I loved? Is that what’s going to happen? Because if so, you can leave.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “You don’t have to be the one. But it could save people’s lives if we could get her to surrender peacefully.”

 

“Why would I help you? Why would I help anyone here?”

 

“Because they could have killed you for what you did to Brandon Stark. They didn’t. They allowed you to prove yourself, to fight for people. You killed a king to protect innocent lives. You’ve carried that guilt with you for years that you couldn’t make him see reason. What if you could make her _see_?”

 

Jaime sighed. “This is impossible. To me, it’s impossible. You’re asking me to side against our sister. I don’t know how to do that,” he answered. “Everything in me is still telling me to protect her.”

 

“Good. She needs an ally that’s not the Mountain or Qyburn. They would lead her to ruin without realizing it. But you would seek to protect her and thereby protecting your child which I know means something to you. Tommen, Myrcella, and Joffrey were yours and you love them. This child could be your chance to have what you were never able to before.”

 

Jaime lowered his head, the pounding increasing. “This is too much to ask.”

 

“It’s not. You’ve taken part in things that have nearly destroyed the Starks. You killed Daenerys’s father, and I know your reasons,” he continued on before Jaime could interrupt him. “They were good reasons. And this is just as good. Even if you don’t care for Cersei, which I know is not true, you care about this child.”

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

“Jaime...”

 

“I said I’d think about it,” he cut him off, enunciating each word. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get dressed and practice with Brienne.”

 

He nodded. “Of course. Thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Listening,” he said as he walked to the door, opened it, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make sure you follow me on Tumblr - ashleyfanfic  
> Twitter - ashleyfanfic 
> 
> (my usernames are the same everywhere)


	42. Gendry VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry speaks with Davos and makes a decision. In an effort to tell Arya, they're interrupted by Bran...who is again changing.

**GENDRY**

 

Gendry sat in the forge, ignoring the people moving around him. It would be easy to get lost in the clang of steel, the smell of the burning fire, the unmistakable flash of the hammer hitting a blade. The others in the room ignored him as he did them, his own war hammer, forged by his own hands, leaned against the box he was sitting on. He knew that no matter how much his life changed, there would always be something about the forge that allowed him to lose himself in his thoughts. It centered him, kept him grounded.

 

He shouldn't have been surprised when Davos entered and made his way over to him. He liked the smuggler. Davos treated him fairly, had come to get him when he knew that war was going to come to King's Landing. He had intended to hide him and who he was, but Gendry had shattered that illusion and not allowed them to keep who he really was from Jon. Why had he done that? Now, it seemed like a mistake.

 

"I bet now you're wishing you had listened to me," Davos said and Gendry thought it was eerie that the old man knew exactly what was moving through his mind.

 

"As a matter of fact, I was," he said softly. He watched the hammer clang against the anvil and sword and he rolled his eyes at watching the young apprentice miss the sword and knew he would have to fix the blade. "How did I go from being a bastard smith to the potential legitimate heir to Robert Baratheon?"

 

"You don't know how to keep your mouth closed when you need to," Davos joked. "Do you wish you didn't know who you were?"

 

"To not have to make this decision? Yes."

 

"So, are you going to accept?"

 

"Undecided. I'm actually tired of talking about it."

 

"I take it the lady is forcing you to make a decision?"

 

He shook his head. "No. She's helped me go through all scenarios. My mind hurts. I don't know how much more discussion about it I can take."

 

"Well, prepare yourself because you and I are going to discuss it."

 

"Can we not?"

 

Davos smirked. "No. You're afraid."

 

"Of course I'm afraid. Not just of death," he explained. "I can't figure out why anyone who hadn't met me would trust me. I don't know anything about being a Lord or running a keep. I can keep myself alive, and Arya if need be. But hundreds of people? I can't fathom that."

 

"Let's look at the alternative. You told me that you were preparing all your life for something. What if this was that thing? What if you were told who you were because this was what was eventually going to happen? Jon wouldn't have laid this at your feet if he didn't think you were the right person. I know that much about him."

 

Gendry shook his head. "That's just it. Why? What have I done that sparks any sort of confidence? I'm prepared to follow, not lead."

 

Davos sat on the box beside him. "I'll admit, this whole thing does seem a bit strange. What are the chances that you go on the run with the King's sister? I'm sure the same odds that Jon was made King of the North. He was raised a bastard, believed all his life that his uncle was his father, still considers Ned Stark his father. Yet, people put their trust in him because time after time he put their needs before his own." He looked over at Gendry. "You did that when you went beyond the wall with him. You proved your loyalty, and though you didn't trust Beric and Thoros, you fought alongside them. Jon trusts you enough to allow whatever is happening between you and his sister to continue with no fuss from him."

 

He sighed. "A lot of that stuff was just that it felt like the right thing to do."

 

"Good. That means you have a noble sense of what's right and wrong. Cersei doesn't. And those people in King's Landing have suffered under her rule, you know that. So, why are you really hesitating?"

 

"I don't deserve any of this."

 

"It's rare that people who come into power deserve it. I know of a few exceptions." He frowned. "This is a lot to ask of you. But they need you, the king and queen. They wouldn't ask this of you if it weren't important. We all discussed it, I advocated to leave you out of it, but I realize the merit in what they've done. You're going to be more than Gendry Waters, a bastard from Flea Bottom. You're the heir to Robert Baratheon, possibly the only one alive, though I don't think we'll ever know if that's the case. Cersei and Joffrey saw to it that all of his bastards were dead. You survived. Why?"

 

"Fucking luck, that's why."

 

Davos smirked. "If that's the case, then don't worry about this part. You can find people to teach you how to be a lord of the keep. You can find advisors to trust who would help you. Hell, I'd help you. But if they're asking you to do this, it's because they need you. Being Robert Baratheon's bastard makes you more than just your blood. And if you're afraid of being like Robert, Renly and Stannis were also honorable men. Stannis...made horrible decisions in the face of religion, but he did have honor."

 

"Do you really think I could do this?"

 

"Do you think I would be out here trying to lift your spirits if I thought you would fail?"

 

Gendry thumped the back of his head against the stone. "I'm almost positive that I will fuck all of this up."

 

Davos shrugged. "Probably. But ask Jon how many times he failed on his way to being king. He was fucking killed for it."

 

"I don't think we're all lucky enough to come back from the dead."

 

He sighed. "No, that's reserved for a special few, I think." They were both silent for a few moments and then Davos's voice brought him out of his thoughts about failure and people starving and dying because he was stupid. "What does your lady say?"

 

He sighed. "Just that she's with me. No matter what I choose."

 

"Are you going to marry her?"

 

"If she'd let me," he said with a smirk. "Right now she's refusing because it's what people would want."

 

"What do you want?"

 

"Honestly? To fuck my life away with her and no one else."

 

Davos smiled. "That is the dream, isn't it? But maybe not a reality."

 

Gendry sighed. "What is my reality? go to Storm's End, hope they want to recognize me, and if they don't hope I don't die as I escape."

 

"That's the plan, yes."

 

He shook his head. "I'm fine with fighting in a battle. I sort of like it. But I don't know how to play these games of politics. Arya's no politician either. She'd rather kill people than negotiate. How are we supposed to rule anything?"

 

"Practice. I'm sure you'll make mistakes. Everyone does. The fact that you're so concerned about this gives me hope that you might be the right man for the job.”

 

Gendry lifted his hammer into his hands, examining the stag on the neck. He’d carved it at first as a rebellion against the Lannisters. Now he was being asked to take over all that the name meant. Lord of Storm’s End. Could Arya really be happy being with a Lord? Would she be happy being a Lady? Would she tired of him and their position in the world? It was a never-ending torment of questions without answers.

 

“I suppose I need to find Arya and speak with her,” he said with a groan and stood.

 

“Have you made a decision? I’m not asking what it is, I’m simply asking if you’ve made one.”

 

He sighed. “I believe so,” he said before he left the forge and went in search of Arya.

 

*~*

 

He found her in the hall sitting with the Hound, Brienne, and Podrick. The squire was seated beside her, and he really wanted to make it clear to the him that he would kill him if he so much as looked at Arya. But when she turned her grey eyes to him, she gave him a half smile that sort of made his stomach flip.

 

The Hound glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes. “Girl, you could hide your lust better,” he said before he took a swig of his drink.

 

She turned a glare to the Hound. “Shut up.”

 

He stopped at the end of the table. “Let’s go talk,” he said to her and she nodded and stood. She finished the drink in her goblet, then followed him outside and through the gates to the Godswood. He wanted privacy and hoped it would be here. Luckily, Bran wasn’t in the Godswood and they were alone.

 

He turned to face her when they stood in front of the Heart Tree. “I think I’m going to do it.” She raised her eyebrows at his statement, but she didn’t let through whether she was happy or not. That made him nervous. “I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to do it. I’m still terrified of the prospect, but I want people to have better lives. I grew up in Flea Bottom. I know what the poor suffer. I want to help alleviate some of it. I can do that in Storm’s End.”

 

“What made you decide?”

 

“Faith. Not in religion. Not even in me. Faith that you and I are...we can do this together if you’ll have me.”

 

“Are you asking me to marry you?”

 

He shook his head. “If we decide to get married it will be our choice, yours and mine. I know, though, I have no chance of pulling this off without you.”

 

She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You have me. Always.”

 

He tilted his head. “It makes me a Lord, something you dislike.”

 

“But I like you. I can put up with the title. As long as you don’t start wearing perfume we’ll be fine.”

 

He smirked. “No perfume. I swear it.”

 

She leaned up on her toes and kissed him. He cupped her face in his hands and slid his tongue against her lips. They were interrupted by a voice clearing behind them and turned to see Bran smiling. Gendry hadn’t seen the boy do that the entire time he’d been here. “You finally made your choice. Good,” he said as he stared at Gendry.

 

He released Arya at the look of the Maester. Arya moves over to Bran and bid the Maester farewell as she began to push her brother towards the crying tree. “Are you going to spend the rest of your life beside this tree?”

 

Bran sighed. “No. I’m...starting to remember what it feels like to be Brandon Stark. My mind's not so consumed with darkness and trying to defeat the Night King. I’ve found...something close to peace. If anything I’m closer to mourning all I’ve lost.”

 

Gendry felt like he should leave Arya and her brother. “I’m sorry, Bran.”

 

“I hadn’t mourned Rickon. I watched...of course, I watched. Jon’s face...” he heaved a sigh and looked at his sister. “Sansa made Ramsay pay. Just like you took revenge on the Frey’s. But I’ve seen so much that I had to push Bran away. I couldn’t be him and be the three-eyed raven. But with the Night King gone, something just awoke in me.”

 

Arya’s face softened as she stepped towards her brother. “Good. We need you. You could be exactly the thing we need to defeat Cersei.”

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

Arya smiled. “What do you think we need to know?”

 

He looked down for a moment and Gendry watched as his face became resolute. He noticed that all of the Starks had it. When they were determined, their eyes focused, a hardness came over their faces. Whatever it was they had decided it would be their enemy’s undoing.

 

“Take me to Jon and Daenerys.”


	43. Jon VIII

 

**JON**

 

He was already exhausted and it wasn’t even noon. Conversations with Tyrion made him tired. The man didn’t seem to fully understand that he was still healing as all he seemed to care about was their eventual conquest of King’s Landing. The Unsullied had selected a new leader, a man named Tales. Missandei had been teaching him how to speak the common tongue, but she was still close by to give him instruction. He could see the pain on her face whenever she would have to translate something to him. He hated that the woman had lost the man she loved. He didn’t know either of them well, but the thought of losing Daenerys was something that made his already sore chest ache.

 

Jon leaned back in his chair and glanced over at Daenerys as she slightly leaned over the map. From his seat, in her spectacularly tailored dresses, he had an excellent view of her shapely backside. He shifted in his seat a bit, trying to get a bit of relief after allowing himself to think of Daenerys with her backside in the air. He seemed to get lost in thoughts of her at the most inopportune moments.

 

He turned his attention back to the table and sighed. He was ready for a break and Daenerys glanced at him over her shoulder. Her back straightened as she looked to the others in the room and nodded at them. “I think we’ve managed to make great strides in our strategy. However, I need a bit of time to collect my thoughts and we can reconvene later.” Tyrion watched as Missandei, Davos, Tales all left and he began speaking and Daenerys held up her hand. “At least an hour where I don’t have to discuss anything about the war.”

 

Tyrion gave her a smile and bowed. “Of course. Should have I food sent up?”

 

Jon nodded. “Aye,” he said as he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the stiffness in the muscles.

 

Tyrion left them and Daenerys sat in the chair beside him. “If you need to stop, you know all you have to do is say something. No sense sitting here in pain.”

 

He shook his head. “No pain. I’m simply tired. Your excuse was _my_ reason. I’m tired of thinking about fighting. Plotting the deaths of other people.”

 

“We are going to war. Another war. This one doesn’t have hordes of the mindless dead. These are living breathing people and I want to make sure we can save as many of them as we can.”

 

He looked over at her, a smile on his face. “I love it when you speak as the queen you are.”  


“What am I at other times?”

 

“You’re always royal. You never slouch and you appear as if nothing bothers you. But I know better. I know who you are. I’ve seen you hurt, cry, mourn. But I’ve also seen you laugh, affectionate, loving, and content. I do like it, though, when the dragon appears, for she is fierce.”

 

She stood and walked to the door and latched it. He grinned as she made her way back to him and sat on his lap gently. He was better, that was for certain. But she still worried about hurting him and took great care to make sure he wouldn’t be injured further from anything she did. Her lips pressed against his and he immediately captured her face to stroke against her jaw. She pulled away from his kiss and captured his hand in hers to remove his glove. She dropped it onto the table behind them.

 

He smiled against her neck and up to her ear. He bunched her skirt in his now degloved hand and the fabric of her dress drifted over her calves up to her thighs. He stroked over the leathers and used his fingers to undo the laces that kept him from her. Jon finally untied then enough to skip his hand inside and was rewarded with a moan and she dropped her legs open. His thumb circled around her clit, not giving her the pressure she wanted. Daenerys pushed his jerkin aside and began working on the laces of his breeches. “Are we just,” she suddenly gasped as his middle finger slid inside her, pumping in long slow strokes while his thumb continued to tease. She managed to find the rest of her sentence, though. “Are we just going to torture one another this afternoon?”

 

“Pleasure,” he whispered into her ear. “The word is ‘pleasure’.”

 

She moved her hips against his hand, trying to get more. “No, the way you’re doing this...it’s torture.” It was his turn to gasp as he felt her warm hand on his hard cock. Her strokes were erratic as she was more concerned with getting pleasure from his hand than giving with her own. Her lips found his and she let out a soft cry as he added another finger to pump into her cunt. “Jon.”

 

A knock sounded on the door, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. “What?” He barked.

 

“Your food, your grace.”

 

“Leave it!” Daenerys thrust against his hand and he smothered her mouth with his, swallowing her cries as she came. He bit her bottom lip while she rolled her hips against his eager fingers. She cupped his face, then slid her hand down his chest to stroke his cock again. She moved her lips along his jaw to his throat nipping at his pulse with her teeth.

 

He removed his hand from her leathers and slid each finger into his mouth, cleaning them of her. Her taste was something he could get drunk on.

 

He leaned his head back against the chair as her hand sped up its movements. She slid from his lap to her knees in front of him. He licked his lips as she flicked her tongue out to taste him. He wanted to sink down in the chair more, but being as far down as he was now caused his body to ache. When she took the head of his cock into his mouth he groaned and gripped the arms of the chair to keep from grabbing her and thrusting as deep into her mouth as he could.

 

“Dany,” he moaned. She slid her mouth over him and he nearly leaped from the chair. “Gods don’t stop.”

 

Her fingers sliding along the inside of his thigh as she sped up her movements caused him to close his eyes and she hummed around his cock. He was only able to give a half-hearted warning before he came in her mouth feeling even more exhausted but very content. She released him then stood. She lifted the skirt of her dress and tied her leathers once more and he did the same. She moved to stand above him, her hands moving over his hair. “Will you be able to concentrate during our meetings now?”

 

He smirked up at her and moved his hands over her thighs to cup her hips. “If I say ‘no’ can we do that again?”

 

She chuckled. “You’re incorrigible.”

 

“That a ‘yes’?”

 

Daenerys moved away from him and opened the door and fetched the tray of food. He noticed she made a face and placed the tray on the table in front of him. “What’s wrong?”

 

She took the seat beside Jon and turned her face away from the food. “Something about the food is making my stomach feel strange. It’s the smell.”

 

He looked over the tray. “Maybe the meat? It’s different from what you had at Dragonstone.”

 

She frowned. “It hasn’t bothered me until now. I’m no stranger to different meat. I ate a lot of horse while I was traveling with the Dothraki.”

 

Jon handed her a piece of bread and the bowl of slightly frozen fruit. “Was that simply what was available?”

 

“When I was pregnant I ate an entire horse heart while they watched and chanted.”

 

He looked at her, every new story her heard of her time in Essos awing him at her strength. “Why?”

 

“Tradition. It was to prove how strong I was. Rhaego was to be the Stallion who Mounted the World.” She was silent for a moment. “It seems like a lifetime ago. Almost as if my life can be dissected into parts. Before Drogo, after. Before my dragons, after. The Red Wastes. Qarth. Astapor. Yunki. Mereen. Dragonstone. Viscerion. It all feels like it’s just pieces and parts that could have been someone else’s life.”

 

“Each piece and part brought you here. A hero for the dawn. The Mother Of Dragons. The _true queen._ I know it was a difficult road. But you’re here, and for that I am grateful.”

 

She took his hand in hers. “I wouldn’t change anything. I can’t look back in regret.”

 

“I think I should tell you that I’m madly in love with you.” Her smile was enough for him to continue. “My one aim in life is to continue to see you happy.”

 

She tilted her head at him. “You’re doing a splendid job so far.”

 

Daenerys ate one of the berries into her mouth and they ate mostly in silence. Every now and then she would reach over and pop a berry into his mouth and he would playfully nibble her fingers.

 

The knock at the door caused the relaxed atmosphere in the room to shift, however. “Who is it?” He questioned.

 

“Arya, Gendry, and Bran.”

 

Jon stood, wincing as a pain shot through his right side. Weeks later and he still ached. “Come in,” he called. Gendry pushed Bran’s chair inside and Arya followed. She leaned over the table, looking interestedly at the food and took a piece of the dried meat. She had a bite then held it out to Gendry who took it from her and finished.

 

He wanted to ask if they had come to a decision but Bran’s voice stopped him. “Theon has rescued Yara.”

 

Daenerys stood and moved to stand in front of Bran. “How is she?”

 

“Traumatized. Euron is dead by Theon's hand. Yara is...in charge of the fleet.”

 

Daenerys sighed. “Is she...”

 

“Euron did unspeakable things to her. She’s currently pregnant with his child.” Daenerys looked horrified by this and she took her seat once more. “He also removed all of the fingers on her right hand and the toes on her left foot. But she is alive and Theon is helping her through the trauma. They’re sailing to White Harbor and should be here before your wedding.”

 

Jon tilted his head. “All of Euron's ships?”

 

“The ones that Theon and his crew didn’t sink. They’re sailing to White Harbor to make sure word reaches you. They’re still aligned with Daenerys.”

 

Daenerys sighed and Jon watched her for a moment before taking her mind from Yara. “What about Cersei? What are her plans?”

 

“She’s trying to get an alliance with Dorne. She’s using the death of their princess as a way to bring them to her side.”

 

“How close is she?”

 

Bran smiled. “She would be closer if one of Varys’s birds hadn’t told them that she still has Ellaria in her dungeons.”

 

“Ellaria is alive?”

 

At this, his smile disappeared. “Physically.”

 

Jon frowned. “What does that mean?”

 

“She’s being kept alive to watch her daughter, Tyene, waste away. Cersei used a poison, the Long Farewell, on Tyene and has made Ellaria watch her daughter's death and decay.”

 

Arya shook her head. “Why are we not going straight to the capital to get rid of her?”

 

“Your brother is still hurt.”

 

“I could do it and they would never suspect me.”

 

“You’re still hurt, too,” Gendry said lowly. “You’re getting around better but you’re not ready for a fight.”

 

“I killed all of house Frey without withdrawing my sword. I could kill her.”

 

Jon exchanged a look with Daenerys and he sighed. “We need you elsewhere. Have you thought any more about our offer?”

 

Gendry shared a look with Arya and then nodded. “I have. I’ll do it. I’ll be Robert's son.”

 

Daenerys spoke this time. “You’re both in agreement?”

 

Arya nodded. “I’m with him.”

 

“Guard!” Jon called and the man outside the door appeared. “Summon Maester Wolken, Samwell Tarly, Brienne Of Tarth, Sansa, Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Lord Royce, Lord Glover, and Lady Mormont into the hall at dusk. Tell them that the King and Queen need them to bear witness to the naming of Gendry Baratheon, first of his name.”

 

“Yes, your grace.”

 

Daenerys turned back to Bran. “Is there anything else you can tell us about Cersei? Her pregnancy?”

 

Bran tilted his head. “She’s not pregnant.”

 

Jon furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

 

“It was something that she and Qyburn had come up with. She knew that Jaime was going to suggest they withdraw. They began orchestrating ways for him to suspect she was pregnant. But when she found out he had met with Tyrion, she felt she was losing him, and lied to him. She lied to Tyrion to gain his sympathy to keep you from killing her. It was all planned.”

 

Daenerys looked to Jon and he could see the fury in her face. “Convince me not to take Drogon to the keep and burn her where she sleeps.”

 

“A lot of people will die,” he started.

 

“A lot of people are already dying,” Arya argued as she was clearly behind Daenerys’s plan.

 

Jon frowned. “It’s not the right choice.”

 

Bran interrupted. “You shouldn’t fly Drogon in your condition.”

 

“My arm is fine,” Daenerys spat.

 

Jon watched a smile appear on Bran’s face and it was almost eerie. He knew something that he wasn’t saying, but he was at a loss for what that was. And so he asked. “What do you mean _in her condition_? She’s not ill.”

 

Bran turned his eyes to Jon and he didn’t know why but it made him uncomfortable. “The signs are there. Neither of you is paying attention to them.”

 

“Forget the signs,” Daenerys said angrily. “What are you talking about?”

 

“Smells, body aches, dizziness...”

 

Arya inhaled quickly and moved from around Bran to stand before Daenerys. Her grey eyes were staring into the dragon queen’s and the later looked uncomfortable under the scrutiny. “Your clothes are fitting strange?”

 

“How did you know that?”

 

“Sansa said she had to adjust a seam in your wedding dress...”

 

Realization hit Jon and he looked at Daenerys with his mouth open. “You said the dragons appeared to be even more protective.”

 

Daenerys closed her eyes and swallowed thickly. “You’re all seeing what you want to see,” she whispered. “I can’t have...”

 

“ _Only death can pay for life_ ,” Bran responded. “Viscerion was a hefty price.”

 

She took a step back from them, almost as if she were afraid. “Stop,” she was panting and Jon could see that she was near to breaking down.

 

“Could you all give us a few moments.  Arya, help Gendry find something to wear that’s not covered in soot for the ceremony tonight.”

 

Arya smiled at Jon as Gendry pulled Bran from the room. She gave him a slight nod as he stood and moved to Daenerys as she had her back to him, his hands rubbing her shoulders as he placed a kiss against the side of her head. “Could he be right?”

 

He couldn’t see her expression, but the tone of her voice made his heart ache. “Has he been wrong before,” she whispered the question into the room? She followed that quickly with, “I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

 

“My hopes are soaring above the clouds. Not sure I could get them down if I wanted to, which I don’t.”

 

She turned in his arms, a frown on her face. “And what happens when I lose this baby? Will you resent me because you believed in something that...”

 

He cupped her face in his hands. “Together, you and I have faced insurmountable odds. We fought the dead and won. How many couples, throughout history, can say they walked away from that with broken ribs and a broken arm? You make the impossible possible.”

 

“You’re happy?”

 

“I was happy before. This is...beyond that.” He smiled. “I’m also rather happy I was right.”

 

She furrowed her brow. “Right?”

 

He nodded. “I told you she wasn’t reliable for information.”

 

She chuckled and moved into his arms fully. “I want this,” she whispered. “I want this so much.”

 

He leaned down to kiss her and the door opened and voices echoed through the room. She lifted her eyes to look at him as Tyrion and Davos stopped. Davos’s voice sounded through the room first. “Should we come back?”

 

Daenerys sighed and whispered to Jon. “Don’t say anything.”

 

He nodded and released her to walk around him and to the rest of the group. “Gentlemen, we’ve had a discussion with Bran regarding some rather interesting news that changes a few things. Cersei's armada is no longer in her control. Yara has it.”

 

“Yara?” Davos asked, looking to Jon for confirmation.

 

“Theon and Yara. They’re sailing for White Harbor to get notice to us. We have a greenseer so that expedites information.”

 

Daenerys crossed her arms in front of her, and Jon noticed this as it emphasized her belly. She was pregnant. With his child. Their child. He truly felt as if his skin was the only thing keeping his body from going everywhere at once. He wanted to offer her a seat. He wanted to make sure she was comfortable and wanted for nothing. She’d likely kill him for making such a fuss, but his desire to see her safe and loved was nearly overwhelming.

 

“And young Gendry has made his decision. Ceremony to be held tonight.”

 

“We’ve asked for different Lords and Ladies to attend to bear witness.”

 

“And will you be naming him as Jon Snow or Aegon Targaryen?” Tyrion questioned.

 

Jon wrinkled his nose at the name, feeling uncomfortable with it. It wasn’t him. He didn’t know how he could live up to it.

 

“Jon Snow.” He could see from the looks of the others in the room, however, that they were not happy with that answer. “What?”

 

Daenerys turned to look at him. “You’re Jon to all of us. But to the world, you need to be Aegon Targaryen. It’s what gives you the claim.”

 

Davos spoke next. “Your name does not define you. But to others, it’s what they need to see to stand behind your claim. And until the two of you are married, it is your claim.”

 

Daenerys took his hand, the one that had been between her thighs, not an hour earlier, and held it in hers. “Be Aegon Targaryen to the world. But _our_ Jon Snow.”

 

His eyes met hers and he was momentarily transfixed by her smile, then nodded. “Fine. Aegon Targaryen will legitimize Gendry Baratheon. It’s bizarre when you think of it. Robert devoted his life to erasing us from the world because of Rhaegar. Yet, here stand two Targaryen’s to legitimize his bastard to reclaim his home lands,” he shook his head. The irony was not lost on him.

 

She smiled. “I can do it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

 

He shook his head. “He’ll eventually be my brother by marriage. I’ll do it for my sister,” he said before he squeezed her hand, the back of his fingers brushing her belly.

 

Daenerys grinned. “You’re a good brother,” she said before she released his hand and moved towards the table. “Cersei.”

 

Tyrion winced. “But we were having such a nice conversation.”

 

“It’s going to get worse,” Jon said as he looked at Tyrion. “She lied. She was never pregnant. She did it to keep Jaime in the fold.”

 

The smaller man put a hand on the table and made a groaning sound and Jon realized it was pain. He looked up at the others in the room, barely concealing the tears in his eyes. “That cunt needs to die,” he finally said through gritted teeth. “How...could she do something...I know how...”

 

Daenerys moved over to him and directed him to a chair. “Breathe, Tyrion.”

 

He took several deep breaths. “I need...to tell Jaime.”

 

“You can and will,” Daenerys said. “But you need to calm down.”

 

“Any reason for Jaime to go South, now, is gone,” he said softly. “You won’t have his help.”


	44. Daenerys VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may not be able to get a chapter out tomorrow morning. It's just fair warning.

 

**DAENERYS**

 

She watched Tyrion as he struggled to contain his anger. Daenerys hated to see him so obviously upset and struggling to contain himself. He was her Hand, but he was also her friend. Missandei entered the room and stopped at seeing everyone so stoic. “Should I come back?”

 

Daenerys ushered her in and her first thought was to tell her their suspicions that she was pregnant. But when Tales entered behind her, she squashed it. She would tell her later. Missandei closed the door behind them and Tyrion looked at her sadly. “Perhaps I should go tell him now?”

 

She shook her head. “No. You’ll collect yourself, we’ll discuss a few other items, and then you can find and tell your brother.” Her eyes turned to Missandei who watched the situation. “Our worries about Cersei and her unborn child were misdirected. She’s not pregnant.”

 

Missandei looked as disgusted as she felt. She controlled her hands, wanting to smooth them over the life inside her. She wanted to celebrate. She wanted to be alone with her future husband and relish in his attention and love, not standing in this solar having another meeting about the future war and the future people that would have to die for them to take the throne.

 

Her friend looked at Tyrion, her face one of compassion and she was reminded of why she cared for her so much. “I’m sorry.”

 

Tyrion nodded. “Thank you,” he replied. “But I think we need to turn our attention back to the task at hand. Have the Dothraki selected new blood riders?”

 

Missandei sighed. “They’re determined to select the best fighters and let them...see who wins.”

 

“That’s a waste of men,” Daenerys said, shaking her head.

 

“Everyone has ways of selecting a ruler,” Tyrion said as he looked at her. “Which brings me to the topic I wanted to discuss since both of you are in the room and your wedding is fast approaching. The line of succession needs to be established. Now that Gendry has decided to be the Baratheon heir, that makes him next in line should, Gods forbid, something happens to both of you.”

 

She took a deep breath. “I told you once before. We’ll discuss the line once I’m on the throne.”

  
“That’s not reasonable, and you know it.”

 

“Tyrion...” Jon started but he cut him off.

 

“This is an important decision. If you recognize the lines, then Gendry is next. Is Gendry the person you want on the Iron Throne? Would he adhere to your vision?”

 

Jon stood beside Daenerys and frowned. “I wouldn’t have made the offer to him if I thought he wouldn’t be good at what we’re asking him.”

 

“You’re asking him to be a Lord. Not the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Those are different. Robert was a decent Lord. Not the best. But decent. He was not a good king because he cared nothing of it. You need a plan, and if...”

 

Daenerys grew weary of his continuation of harping on this subject. “Tyrion.” She interrupted, her nerves frayed. She felt Jon’s soothing hand on the small of her back and she looked at him. The look on his face let her know that it was her decision to tell him, but she wasn’t ready. She wanted to relish in it with Jon. She didn’t want to share it with the world. “I understand your concern. I do. At least wait until our wedding to start preparing for our deaths and who takes the throne after us.”

 

Tyrion didn’t look appeased by this at all, but Davos interjected from his position beside the table. “Let it rest. They’re not going to decide today.”

 

Daenerys looked to the older man gratefully. At least he seemed to be able to pick up on clues. “Very well. What about...my sister?”

 

At this Daenerys stepped away from Jon, knowing they disagreed on how to handle her. “I’ve been cautioned to not fly Drogon to the capital and burn the keep to the ground.”

 

“I agree with that person,” Tyrion said softly. “Much as I want her dead, and after the revelation today, believe me, I do. But there are people in the city who don’t deserve that fate.”

 

She knew Tyrion would advocate against her plan. She looked at Davos, a deep frown on her face. “Do you agree?”

 

“I grew up in Flea Bottom. It was a shithole. But the people there don’t deserve to have their city burned.”

 

Missandei nodded. “I think of all the children who could potentially die, your grace. It seems...excessive.”

 

It was excessive. It was the blood of the dragon calling out for her enemies to perish in flames. Cersei was her enemy. She was the enemy of every person in the Seven Kingdoms. Flying the dragons to the keep would be what Cersei would do. She didn’t care who died in her quest for the throne. Daenerys did. She had to be better. She did what was necessary and she knew that their current plan would work once they marched South. “Very well. I think I would like to rest before the ceremony for Gendry this evening. If you’ll excuse me. Missandei would you accompany me to my room?”  The other woman nodded and she gave a look to Jon who gave her the half smile she had grown to love. They walked in silence until they reached her room and opened the door. She closed it quickly and turned to her friend.

 

“How are you?” she asked Missandei.

 

The other woman controlled her emotions better than anyone she had ever seen. But she still grew weepy at the mention of her loss. Daenerys took her hands in hers and frowned. “I’m...surviving, your grace.”

 

“Is there anything I can do? I can’t...bring him back...but...”

 

Missandei shook her head. “No. I’m getting better day by day. Not whole, but better.” Daenerys embraced her and Missandei gave her a watery smile, then wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

 

“You have nothing to apologize for, my friend,” she frowned. “Unfortunately, we now have this in common.”

 

“Unfortunately,” she whispered.

 

She turned from Missandei and removed her nightdress and lay it on the bed. “Would you fetch one of my handmaids.”

 

Missandei shook her head. “No need. I have helped dress and undress you many times,” she said and then blushed as she realized what she had said. “Rather scandalous now, isn’t it?”

 

Daenerys smiled and presented her back to her, pulling her silver hair over her shoulder. Missandei helped unlace her dress. “Do you wish to do something different to your hair for the ceremony or leave it like this.”

 

“What sort of state is it in?”

 

She examined the braids. “It’s holding up well.”

 

Daenerys sighed in relief. “Good. I was afraid Jon had dislodged something and it would have to be redone.”

 

“Jon Snow left it perfectly in place, your grace.”

 

Once the laces were undone, Missandei held out her nightdress and she slid it in and she noticed her friend's odd look. “What is it?”

 

“It’s not my place...”

 

“No, what?”

 

“Your...your body looks different.”

 

Daenerys smiled and took her friend’s hands after she had removed her boots. “I have a secret to tell you. I’m...with child.”

 

Missandei tilted her head at her for a moment before her face broke into a smile and hugged her. She laughed in Daenerys’s ear and she hugged her friend back. “I’m so happy for you. Elated, really. A beautiful little Targaryen to dote upon,” she said as she released Daenerys.

 

Her face hurt from her smile being so wide. “I feel elated and terrified all at the same time. What if I...lost him or her.”

  
“Let’s call it a ‘her’ until you’ve thought of a name.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “Yes, I like that better than it,” she chuckled and sat on the edge of the bed. “But what of the other part?”

 

Missandei stepped forward and Daenerys looked up at her. “It is special that you’re pregnant. Bask in that for as long as you can. If the unthinkable happens and you...then you have a whole host of people who would do anything for you. We’re here with you, your grace.”

 

Daenerys fought off tears and looked up at her friend. “Thank you.”

 

The door opened and Jon stood in the doorway. Missandei and Daenerys shared a secret smile. “Please keep this to yourself. Tyrion and Davos don’t know.”

 

“Of course. I’ll leave you alone,” she said and gave a bright smile to Jon as she left the room and closed the door behind her. Jon removed his boots, sword belt, and jerkin as she scooted back on the bed. A scratching sounded at the door and Jon allowed Ghost in to see the large animal climb onto the bed beside Daenerys and rest his head on her upper thighs.

 

Jon chuckled and shook his head, as he moved around to his side and climbed onto the mattress. “Clearly we’ve not been paying attention.”

 

Daenerys reached down to scratch Ghost behind the ears and then turned to her side, causing the wolf to shift. Jon placed a kiss on her lips and then leaned down to press a kiss to her belly. “I’m very happy you were wrong.”

 

She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his hair. “You did make a compelling argument.”

 

“And you ignored it,” he said, his eyes meeting hers.

 

“I never thought it could happen, Jon. I meant it. I was resigned that it would never happen.” She cupped his face with her hand. He rolled her onto her back as he kissed her belly again. “I should have known it would be you.”

 

“Why?” he asked as he rested his head there, his thumb tracing over her hip.

 

“You were different from the beginning. When I really should have known was when I saw you pet Drogon. He is a very territorial dragon. Viserion was a little more to himself, Rhaegal is somewhat playful. Drogon is all business. He doesn’t suffer people well. But he allowed you to pet him. It should have told me all I needed to know that you weren’t like other men. You were better.”

 

He shook his head. “I’m not. You make me feel like I could be.”

 

She bit her bottom lip and then smiled. “You're a wolf and a dragon. That’s special. Better than everyone else I know. And you’ll be...the most amazing father.”

 

Jon moved to lie beside her, his lips meeting hers in a heated kiss and his hand rested on her belly. “With you beside me, I have faith I will. You’re already the Mother of Dragons. I imagine you’d be a rather doting mother. Fierce if you come after her cub, but loving. You have so much to give. You show it in your care for people, my family who you could have treated as beneath you...”

 

She shook her head. “I love them. They’re all so fascinating and they’ve accepted me because of you. Because you love me. That is something...my dragons and my counsel were my only family. Then I met you and it got so much bigger. And now, we’ll be bound together through marriage, through family. Our family. One we made together,” she released a happy sob. “I never thought I would be able to feel like this again.”

 

He looked to the large direwolf at the end of the best. “Ghost, do us a favor and go lay by the fire.”

 

The wolf looked up and Daenerys watched as he slowly raised his body and moved to the floor in front of the hearth. She pulled Jon into her arms. “I love you, Jon Snow.”

 

“I love you, Daenerys Targaryen.” He rubbed his hand over her belly as he placed a kiss on her nose. “I love you, so much.”

 

She shook her head. “Stop it or I will cry.” He leaned down and kissed her. As he settled to his side, he pulled the furs up around them and held her in his arms. “What made you decide to join me?”

 

“I’m tired of talking. That’s all Tyrion seems to want to do. I excused myself explaining that my chest was hurting. How long do you think I can use that excuse before he sees through it?”

 

“Not long. He’s perceptive.”

 

He placed a kiss on her brow and snuggled beneath the furs. “I’m exhausted, Dany.”

 

“Me too. Let’s...let’s have a nap before the ceremony.”

 

“Not what I had in mind when I planned to join you, but there’s been so much information told to us in such a short period of time. I think we need to rest.”

 

“I agree,” she said, her eyes drifting closed.

 

*~*

 

Missandei had returned a few hours later and roused them from sleep. Jon had gotten dressed quickly and managed to fix his hair back into its tie at the back of his head. Daenerys was wearing a black dress with the silver dragon pendant and chair. The cape hanging down her back was bright red, letting everyone know that she represented the Targaryen name, even if Jon was the true heir. He would never turn his back on his Northron heritage, and though she might like to see him in red and black armor, she preferred her white wolf as he was.

 

He adjusted the straps of his heavy cloak, then tied his sword belt around his waist, then gripped the hilt of Longclaw. Missandei tucked the silver dragon into her hair when a knock sounded at the door. Missandei left Daenerys staring at her reflection when Tyrion and Davos entered. “You look lovely, your grace.”

 

Jon smiled. “Thank you.”

 

Daenerys laughed. “Incorrigible,” she repeated the word she’d used on him earlier. She then noticed that Tyrion had a package in his hand. “What is that?”

 

“Davos and I were speaking a few days ago and we’d had these made for your wedding. But we think it sends a better message if you wear them tonight.”

 

Jon stood as Daenerys moved over to the box and opened the lid. She looked at Tyrion. “Crowns?”

 

“You can’t expect to take a throne without them.”

 

Tyrion smiled. “I do wish to crown you, your grace, but I don’t want to stand on a chair and I wouldn’t ask you to kneel in that dress...”

 

Missandei stepped forward and placed it upon her head. Missandei removed the pendant from her hair and settle the crown into place. She turned to get their opinion and their bright smiles greeted her. She looked at Jon and she removed the crown and turned to Davos. “May I?”

 

“Of course,” he said as she stepped forward, holding the crown in her hands.

 

“I, Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen do crown you, Aegon Targaryen, of House Stark, sixth of his name,” she said as she placed the crown upon his head.


	45. Gendry VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry is legitimized and he and Arya celebrate!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a warning because of all the discussion that took place on the last chapter, I don't know how the legitimization of Gendry would go in the books. I don't even know if it would require this sort of ceremony considering Stannis tried to do it for Jon in a room with just him, Davos, and I believe Olly. However, I wanted to give a bit more panache. If you don't like it or feel something is wrong, that's your opinion. I'm writing what I want. You want something different, you write it in your own fic. 
> 
> To those that have continued to stick around...THANK YOU for humoring me. I'm not an expert on Game of Thrones, as you can clearly tell by my writing. However, I do love the world and the characters and I only hope that you guys are enjoying the story. I don't know that I'll be able to keep the pace up that I have been. I'm now even with chapters and I don't know that I can simply churn out a chapter a day. It's exhausting to try. I do have the story outlined, and I think when it's all said and done, it will easily hit one-hundred chapters. To be honest, I never expected to get into the forties.
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by the song "Northern Downpour" by Panic! At the Disco.
> 
> Follow me on twitter @ashleyfanfic  
> Follow me on tumblr @ashleyfanfic

**GENDRY**

 

Gendry looked himself over in the mirror, amazed at the detail that had gone into making this heavy leather jerkin. The leather had been dyed black, but the stitching holding it together and the thread that had emblazoned a stag over his heart was a golden thread. The cloak he'd been given was much more simple than that of the Northron lords. It was black and the small amount of fur that trimmed it was a dark black as well. As an attendant followed the exuberant Sansa Stark's direction from behind him about how to wrap the cloak over his left arm to leave his right free, he realized it somewhat matched what Arya had on in style. He didn't know if Sansa was trying to dress them alike or if it was an accident. Sansa reached forward a handed the man a harness that was strapped into place. He was instructed to drop his hammer into it, which he did. It amazed him how it took the weight and distributed it across his upper and lower spine. He didn't know how they had managed that, but he thought, for a second, he could pass for a Lord.

 

His eyes met Arya's in the looking glass. Her face was emotionless and Sansa stepped forward and gave a few remaining tweaks to Gendry's jerkin, making sure the toggled and clasps were well hidden. Before he knew what was happening, Arya had moved her sister out of the way with a glare. "Stop fretting over him. You're making him nervous."

 

Gendry didn't want Sansa to think he was being rude. "Really, Arya, it's fine. All of this is making me nervous, not just people fussing over me."

 

Arya looked at Sansa and smiled. "Give us a minute."

 

Sansa hesitated then folded her arms over her chest. "No. Every time I leave the room I know what the two of you do and you're not going to do that now and ruin these clothes."

 

Gendry smirked at Arya who only glared at her sister. "Get out, now."

 

They two Stark girls were staring one another down until Sansa finally relented. "Fine. But I'm standing outside this door!" she said as she left the room. "And I can hear if you two start doing anything!"

 

Arya rolled her eyes but turned back to Gendry. "Why are you nervous?"

 

He put his hands on her shoulders, just needing the comfort of touching her. "Because this is not what I ever intended when I told your brother who I was. I thought I would be a fighter, maybe, hopefully...reunite with you, and at most be a warrior at his side. Having you seemed a dream. An unobtainable one because how could you, a high-born lady, ever want a bastard like me. Add Jon and Daenerys asking me to take my place as my father's son to help rule his keep and align with them...it's a lot to take."

 

She nodded. "I know. It's asking a lot. But, I know this. Jon wouldn't have done this to or for you if he didn't believe that you could handle it."

 

"I feel like an imposter, Arya. I agreed to this, but at the same time...I still feel like a bastard. I still feel like people will look down upon me because of the circumstances of my birth."

 

Arya shook her head. "People are going to do that whether or not you become a Lord. At least now you can make them suffer for it."

 

He chuckled. "What are you going to do? Kill anyone who says a bad word about me?"

 

"Well, hopefully, if I kill enough people they'll learn to stop."

 

"My assassin," he said as he cupped her face and kissed her.

 

She pulled away and her eyes stared into his. "Don't start something we can't finish."

 

"We can finish it later."

 

"And do you want to go into the hall and named Gendry Baratheon all the while hard for the King's sister?"

 

Gendry took a step back from her and released her. "I think not."

 

"Sansa, you can come in," Arya called and her sister opened and entered.

 

Along with Davos.  "They're ready for you."

 

"Arya," Sansa said with a smile. "You're to come with me to the hall."

 

"Why can't I go with Gendry?"

 

"You're a representative of House Stark. Come along."

 

Arya gave him a quick peck on the lips and then walked away with her sister. Davos gave Gendry a once over and shook his head. "If I didn't know better, I would think you were a young Stannis or Robert standing in front of me."

 

"No, Ser. I'm Gendry."

 

"Aye, Lad. You are. Let's go see to it that you're a Baratheon."

 

*~*

 

Gendry entered the room as two guards held the door open for him. He strode in with more confidence than he actually felt. He took note that the Lords and Ladies of the north, save the Starks, were lined up to the left of Jon Snow, while the others, Jaime Lannister, Brienne of Tarth, even the squire Podrick, who he wanted to hate but the man made it nearly impossible were at the right of the queen. Jon and Daenerys stood at the front of the room in front of the fire. The normal able that usually sat in front of the hearth was gone. Sansa, Arya, and Bran were lined just to the back of Jon's left shoulder, and Davos joined him. Tyrion, Missandei, Tales, and the new Dothraki blood riders, who looked worse for wear, stood behind them. He felt butterflies the size of Drogon flying through his stomach. Sansa and Arya had been helping him go over what to say. Arya had played that game with Jon when they were younger, as the man had wanted nothing more than to be a Stark. She knew the words. Jon knew the words. But now he was going to be more of a Stark. He was a Targaryen as well. As he came to stand in front of Jon and Daenerys, he noticed the crowns and it only made this moment more surreal.

 

Daenerys's crown came to a peak perfectly aligned with her nose. The thin strands of silver made it appear as if it would break. As he stared at it, the large red ruby in the center initially drew his attention. However, he noticed that the strands of silver weren't simply strands of silver ropes, they were the bodies of dragons. It was masterful work. Jon's was a bit different. His silver crown was more understated, and from a distance, all he could see was a diamond set amongst three rubies, but he realized the diamond was the eye of a direwolf and the red were the three heads of the dragon representing the Targaryen's. It was simple enough when far away, but up close, they were both amazing.

 

He was broken from his thoughts when Daenerys's voice rang out. "What is your name?"

 

"Gendry Waters, bastard son of Robert Baratheon," he said firmly. He was going to let go of Waters. It would no longer be his name. He hoped he didn't forget from where he came. He'd worked so hard to learn skills and to be a decent person. He hoped that he could be more than his name. He'd wished for it before, now he was praying to the Gods that he didn't fuck everything up and become undeserving of all of this.

 

Jon withdrew Longclaw and pressed the tip of the sword into the floor and gave him a small smile and nodded. "Gendry Waters, kneel."

 

Daenerys spoke again. "I, Daenerys Stormborn, of House Targaryen, Rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, the Mother of Dragons, the Breaker of Chains, and Hero for the Dawn, name you Gendry Baratheon, true heir to Storm’s End and the legitimate son of Robert Baratheon."

                                                                                           

"And I, Aegon Targaryen, of House Stark _and_ Targaryen," he said as he looked over at Daenerys who smiled, "King of the Seven Kingdoms, Friend to the Free Folk, Lord Commander of The Night's Watch, The Undead, and Hero for the Dawn, name you Gendry Baratheon, true heir to Storm’s End and the legitimate son of Robert Baratheon." Gendry reached behind him and removed his hammer and placed the head of it to the ground, the stag emblazoned on the hilt shining in the candlelight as Arya had insisted it be cleaned before the ceremony.

 

"Rise, Gendry Baratheon, first of his name, heir to Storm’s End," they said in unison and Gendry stood up, holding his head high as he looked at Daenerys and Jon.

 

Daenerys was the first to speak again. "Do you, Gendry Baratheon swear fealty to House Stark and House Targaryen?"

 

"Now and until the end of my house," he responded.

 

Jon. "My Lords."

 

Daenerys. "My Ladies."

 

"As rightful King and Queen to the Seven Kingdoms, we present to you, Gendry Baratheon, first of his name, legitimate son of Robert Baratheon and rightful heir to Storm's End."

 

The Maester stepped forward and presented a book to Jon and Daenerys that they both signed and it was then presented to Gendry. Davos had shown him how to sign his name and he did so quickly, not wanting anyone to see that he was unsure of the swirls and flicks of the quill. He would need to learn to read and write. He would need to learn quickly. He'd have to tell Arya, but would she judge him harshly for it? He shook his head and knew that she probably already guessed that he didn't know how to put quill to parchment.

 

Once the ceremony was over, a guard appeared with a box and Jon helped Daenerys remove her crown and she his as they placed them into the box. The guard was told to watch them with his life and if anything happened to them under his watch, they'd be killed. Tyrion was less menacing than the look he received from Arya who only nodded to tell him that she would hold him to it as well. Gendry took a deep breath and Jon stepped forward and shook his hand. "Thank you for doing this."

 

Gendry shook his head. "Thank you for asking me. I hope I can live up to your expectations."

 

"Never doubted you," Jon said with a small smiled.

 

Arya stepped forward and took Gendry's hand in hers and turned him to her then hugged him. "I'm proud of you."

 

"Not embarrassed by my new status as a Lord?"

 

"Mortified," she said with a smile. "You didn't stutter through it once, though. Much better than when we practiced."

 

He leaned down to whisper into her ear. "Your tits were in my face when you decided I needed to practice."

 

She mock-gasped. "What sort of Lord are you to speak to a Lady in such a way?" she whispered back.

 

"The only kind you'd tolerate," he laughed. 

 

She nodded and rolled her eyes. "Too true."

 

Tyrion's voice sounded. "The King and Queen have invited you to stay and have supper with us to celebrate Gendry Baratheon, first of his name."

 

*~*

 

Hours later, when the castle had once again grown silent and he and Arya had finally made it back to his room, she took him from his thoughts as he stared at the hammer in his hands as he realized she was standing in front of him. "You know what's stupid?"

 

Arya frowned and shook her head. "What?"

 

"I thought I would feel different. More certain about all of it," he stood and leaned his hammer against the wall by Needle. "If anything the doubt has become greater."

 

Arya turned him to face her and then began to undo the clasps and toggles that held together the leather of his jerkin that Sansa had made. "If you weren't nervous, that would be stupid," she said finally. Her fingers worked slowly and he simply stared down at her face and he swallowed thickly. "I am going to need your help with something." Her eyes drifted down his body and settled on the burgeoning erection that strained against his leathers. He smirked. "Well, yes, that soon. But actually, I...I need you to teach me how to read and write."

 

She stopped what she was doing and looked up at him. "That's not stupid, Gendry. Not all."

 

"It's not? I feel like I'm a bit too old to be making the request."

 

She finally shoved the leather over his shoulders and she placed it on the chest at the foot of her bed. "You're never too old to learn something new. And you do need to learn. You should know, though, I don't have a lot of patience teaching someone something."

 

He barked out a laugh. "I know that. But I trust you to help me. You love me and you won't judge me."

 

Arya chuckled. "I will do it only for you."

 

Gendry nodded and tugged his tunic over his head and tossed it to the chest with his jerkin. Arya smiled and slid her nails over his back and to his leather-clad hips then thighs. "I'm under strict orders to get these clothes off of you before we do anything."

 

He smirked at the mischievous smile across her lips. "You have no intention of doing that, do you?"

 

"I don't like to be given orders. Keep that in mind," she said as she pushed him to sit on one of the chairs beside the fire. She stood in front of him and stripped her clothes off, with Gendry's help. When she threw her tunic over her head, he leaned forward and captured one of her nipples in his mouth and helped her get her leathers off once she'd removed her boots. He tugged her into his lap, a knee dangling over his hips. Gendry was thankful that it wasn't one of those overstuffed chairs with the arms. Having her settled on his lips, her head thrown back as his hands and lips explored her body was what he needed to help alleviate some of the stress of the day. Her hands helped unlace his breeches, but she didn't try to tug them over his hips, but instead pulled him from beneath the ties and stroked him a few times. Gendry bit at the area around her nipple, slicked his fingers with the wetness of her then ran them over her other nipple. She faltered in her stokes as he switched breasts and licked the taste of her from her skin. Her hand was warm and the erratic pace of her caused his head to spin a bit. He struggled against the urge to grab her hand and make them more even with more purpose, but nothing would take him from tasting her. 

 

He slipped his fingers through her folds again, this time using his thumb to trace around her clit, but not touch it. She moaned in frustration and he smiled against her skin, sliding one finger inside of her. He knew it was only enough to send her into a heightened state of arousal, but she liked to be filled in order to get off, and he wouldn't allow her to do that until he was seated inside her. For now, he was content to taste the saltiness of her skin. He felt for a moment that maybe he neglected her breasts when they spent time together. He made a vow he would never do so again and smiled against her skin.

 

"The onl-y reason you get to smile right now is that you-you’re going to give me more," she stumbled through the words even as she rode his hand. She was wet and hot and he licked his lips simply thinking of being buried inside. He teased around her sex with his finger, not sliding it inside her as she wanted. She squirmed over him, cursing him. She didn't beg. That wasn't her style and never would be. She threatened. But her threats were always threats of things she was going to do to him after she eventually got what she wanted. His favorite was always that she was going to sit on his face and make it so he couldn't breathe. He looked forward to the day she followed through on that one. He kicked his boots off, removed his fingers from inside her. Her loud groan filled the room and he knew she would scratch the hell out of his back when he finally filled her. He lifted her into his arms and walked the short distance to the bed and climbed onto it with her. "Gendry," she moaned when she felt his tongue against her folds. Again, he denied her what she wanted. He smiled as she had grown tired to his insistence on not giving her what she wanted and started to manhandle him. But he thwarted her at every turn and finally pinned both of her hands over her head. 

 

"Shouldn't you do what I say?" He asked and the look she gave him was predatory.

 

"You're with the wrong woman if you think that's how this works."

 

She continued to struggle against his grip, but his tongue flicked out over her breast and she moaned. He saw her smile despite herself. He released her hands and he was stunned by her strength as she flipped them over and slid down his body to his cock which was pressed against his stomach, the leaking tip painting his lower belly in his need for her. There was nothing else said as she slid her mouth over the head and her hand cupped his sack, her calloused fingers moving over the hypersensitive skin. He tucked an arm beneath his head as he watched her take his cock deeper into her mouth. He slid his fingers through her hair but didn't push. He simply watched how her determination worked to his advantage. She spread the laces open more and her other hand stroked over the base of him as her mouth sucked upward on the tip. He was going to stop her soon, but the sight of her gloriously naked above him, his cock in her mouth and he knew there would never grow a time where he would tire of it. She tugged on his leathers and he sat up to help him remove his clothes. He leaned forward and kissed her, tasting himself on her tongue. Mixed with the taste of her and he knew he would shatter the world to keep her.

 

Arya straddled his waist then slid his cock through her folds, dropping her own head back when the tip moved against her engorged clit. She'd obviously grown tired of the teasing and impaled herself on him in a long slide. He dropped his head back to take a breath. She put her hands on his slightly bent legs then moved her hips in a rolling motion. They were shallow thrusts done at an agonizingly slow roll. He didn't know if he would survive this torture. Her inner walls tightened against every stroke out. It was a brilliant torture. He captured her hips in his hands and received a squeak of surprise when he thrust into her hard, letting her know that she was controlling the pace because he wanted her to. That only seemed to fire her up more.

 

She shifted forward and placed her hands beside his heads and stopped moving. "Think that was clever? I'm in control."

 

He shook his head. "No. This is a game of equals," he said as he pulled her down to kiss him. She grabbed his hands and went to shove them to the bed, but he overpowered her. As she moved her left, he blocked her with his right. She sat up and he was fully seated inside her again, even as their hands struggled. He sat up and pinned her wrists behind her back. He bit along the underside of her breast. She thrust her hips against his, rocking back and forth over him. “Equals,” he whispered against her skin. She rested her cheek against the side of his head and then nodded. He released her hands again and she held him to her as his hands grasped her hips.

 

*~*

 

In the silence of the keep, Gendry faced Arya, his hands tucked beneath his pillow and his eyes closed. He felt her fingers move along his jaw and opened his eyes to find her staring at him. “I know you’re scared of being a Lord,” she whispered. “I think it’s only fair to tell you that I’m scared of being a Lady.”

 

He smiled. “Good. It gives me hope.”

 

She shook her head. “It’s not funny. I never thought there would be an option for me to be a Lady under my terms. I can’t be Sansa. I don’t really want to. I will never be as good at it as she is. But then, I think that is probably alright because you wouldn’t want me to be.”

 

He tugged her closer to him and she went willingly into his arms. “No, I wouldn’t. I like you as you are. The cold-blooded killer. The Faceless Man. Arry,” he said with a slight smile. “You’re perfect, Arya. Stop comparing yourself to your sister. You are everything you need to be and I feel more assured knowing you’re at my side. No one believed in me until you.”

 

She tucked her head beneath his and pulled the furs higher. “So, you’re saying you want to be my family?”

 

He smiled and kissed her lips. “You are my family.”

 

Arya closed her eyes and was silent for a moment, then her voice struck out into the room, “I’m not calling you ‘my Lord’.”

 

He chuckled. “I’m still going to call you ‘m’lady’.”

 

“As long as it’s not in front of other people and reserved for in here only.”

 

“You mean when you push me around like earlier.”

 

“ _Tried_ to push you around, you mean,” she grumped.

 

He closed his eyes. “Yes. That.”

 

“If you tell anyone, I’ll gut you. But I like it when you overpower me, sometimes.”

 

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “Do you?”

 

She nodded. “It makes me wet,” she whispered into the room. “Again, something that stays in here.”

 

“Or the forge.”

 

She grinned. “I do like the naughtiness of doing it in the forge…”

 

“And what else does m’lady like?”

 

Arya smirked. “I like it when you’re dirty, covered in soot and ash. I like it when you tease me with your fingers, but more when you do it with your mouth…” She reached between them and stroked his stirring cock. “I like tasting you. Do you like it?”

 

He gasped as her thumb swirled around the head. “Yes. I especially like it when I wake up to your mouth on my cock.”

 

She placed kisses along his throat. “What else do you like?”

 

“I like watching you ride me,” he said as he pushed her to her back. He ran his fingers along the inside of her thigh and heard her gasp. “I like that sound. I like when you moan my name. I love watching you fight with your sword and defeat everyone in the yard,” he said as he slipped two fingers inside her. He kissed her then nibbled along her bottom lip. “I like watching you get dressed but I love helping you get _undressed_ …” his thumb swirled around her clit. She gasped and closed her eyes before she rolled to her side, threw her thigh over his, pushed his hand away, and sheathed him inside her. “I love that you take what you want,” he gasped as he wrapped his arms around her.

 

Their thrusts were unhurried as she kissed and nipped at the skin of his throat. “I love how you touch me,” Arya offered in a breathy whisper. “You don’t treat me like I’m made of glass to break beneath you. You touch me like you can’t get enough. You bruise me on accident, but I wear them like armor. I love that when we’re done, I still feel you and it only makes me want you more.” She leaned her head back as he moved his fingers along her hip and to her clit. She closed her eyes and he watched her as she came undone, her climax causing him to grow closer to his own. She rode the high of it until he moved his hand to grasp her hip and thrust into her harder and faster. “I love watching you when you get off,” she said into his ear. “I love feeling it inside me, knowing that one day it could make something better than either of us. I love tasting it,” she said all of this in a breathy tone. She pulled back and pressed her forehead against his. And with the slight pull of her inner walls against him, he came. He didn’t know where she ended and he began.

 

“I love you,” she whispered against his ear. “You and me, Gendry. That’s all we need.”


	46. Sansa VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, I really like writing Tyrion/Sansa friendship scenes. But this chapter I loved writing because it's so angsty and just my cup of tea. If it's not yours, well, #sorrynotsorry!

 

**SANSA**

Sansa had slid her sword back into its sheath, feeling the weight slap against her leg as she re-entered the castle. It had been a long day and she needed rest. She came into the hall and found Tyrion seated alone, a cask of wine and a goblet on the table in front of him. He was resting his head on his hand and swirling the liquid around. She thought of continuing on to her room, but Tyrion had always been kind to her. With that in mind, she crossed the stone and sat beside him.

 

Tyrion slid the goblet over in front of her and she shook her head. “I don’t care for wine.”

 

“You’ll want it when I tell you why I’m down here drinking by myself.” She eyed him wearily. “I have to tell my brother that Cersei is an even great deceiver than we ever thought.”

 

She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

 

“She’s not pregnant,” Tyrion said with a lift of his eyebrows.

 

Sansa heaved a sigh and looked at the goblet. “She was never pregnant, was she?” Sansa asked to which Tyrion shook his head. “No. She was not. She did it to make Jaime more loyal her. Especially after she found out we met in King’s Landing. Apparently, that was all she needed to lay this horrendous lie at his feet. Dangled hope in front of his face only to have it snatched away.” Sansa reached for the cup and downed the contents and only winced. She placed it back on the table and he refilled it and downed it himself. “I know she’s evil. I want her dead more than I want Daenerys on the throne,” he continued. “I’m still trying to convince myself that Daenerys  _shouldn’t_ fly to the Red Keep and kill her. It’s a constant fight to understand that there are more important things than my need for revenge.”

 

She leaned back in her chair and looked at her hand where they were folded in her lap. “How do you think he’ll take it?”

 

“I’m hoping he doesn’t have his sword in his hand to kill the messenger.”

 

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I know you were probably looking forward to a possible niece or nephew. I know how much you cared for Myrcella and Tommen.”

 

He put a hand on her arm. “Thank you, my lady.” He frowned. “I suppose I’ve put it off long enough.”

 

“You’re going to tell him while you’re drunk?”

 

“I don’t know that I have the heart to do it sober.”

 

She looked over at him and heaved a sigh. “Would you like me to go with you?”

 

He shook his head. “No sense in you being killed with me,” he said as he stood from his chair and drank down the contents of the goblet. “Will you be a _good wife_ and see to it that my wine makes it back to my room?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Tyrion, I’m not your wife,” she said as she stood.

 

“No, but I do feel you’re the best I’ll ever do,” he said as he walked away and she smiled slightly. She took the wine and goblet and gave it to one of the maids to put into Tyrion’s room, then made her way to hers. She didn’t know how Jaime would react to the news. She knew he was torn about whether to go South or not, but would he be swayed now. She went into her room and grabbed her cloak, then went out to the Godswood. It was snowing again and her feet crunched over the white powder. Bran wasn’t in front of the tree and so she sat against the old crying tree and pulled her cloak tighter around her.

 

She could barely make out the stars between the leaves. In less than a week, there would be a wedding here. Sansa did all she could to block out the thought of the last wedding held within these woods. Theon gave her away to the monster that was Ramsay Bolton. She was such a fool. She had hoped that his reputation had been mostly talk, but it hadn’t. Instead, it had been much worse than she’d thought. She tried so hard to block out the time she’d spent with him. There were still nights where she woke up in a sweat, crying, nearly in a panic that he could be there hurting her again. Her body was covered with the scars from his knife. She wore the traditional Northron garb, keeping her arms and neck covered. But anyone who saw her would see the extent of his brutality. Theon had witnessed it on numerous occasions.

 

Sansa brushed the tears away, hoping that watching the union of Jon and Daenerys would be enough to fully erase the taint that Ramsay had put on this place. She heard the gate slam shut and she was on her feet, her hand on the hilt of her sword as she hid behind the tree. A figure came into view and his scream frightened her. She watched the figure fall to his knees and put his head in his hands. The light of the moon illuminated his golden hair and she realized it was Jaime. She continued to find herself alone with him and every second spent around him made her more uneasy. She didn’t believe he would ever hurt her, but her conflicting feelings for him made her nervous, her skin feel like it bubbled under his gaze.

 

She stepped from around the tree and his hand was on his sword and he was on his feet quickly. She pressed her lips together as she faced down the point of his blade, but he dropped it upon realizing who she was. The tears moving down his cheeks let her know that Tyrion had told him. He threw the sword to the ground. “Did you know?”

 

She tilted her head and sighed. “Tyrion only just told me.”

 

He hung his head. “I can’t believe I was so stupid,” he said through gritted teeth. Sansa remained silent as she watched him, the expression on his face changing from one of heartbreak to rage. “She’s always done exactly what she had to do to keep me in the fold. She played on my feelings for her over and over again and I always let her. Faithful to a fault. To my own ruin.”

 

She stepped forward and picked his sword from the ground. “ _Widow’s Wail_. The sword Joffrey carried; made from my father’s blade,” she said as she examined it. “He was weak. A fool. A coward.” She looked up at Jaime. “There was a time I would have called you all of those things.” He frowned and she saw another tear slip down his cheek and she stepped forward, the sword hanging at her side as she used her leather-clad thumb to wipe the tear away. “You loved her. She knew it. Everyone does. You made countless bad decisions where it concerned her. But you’re not near her, now. You haven’t been in a while and you have proven on several occasions, since you rode North, that you’re capable of being a good man.”

“I, now, get to mourn a child that never existed,” he whispered.

 

“I’m sorry. Truly.”

 

He scoffed. “At least you haven’t told me that this could be the very thing I needed to cause me to go to war against her.”

 

She sighed. “Not to defend Tyrion, but he was rather drunk.”

 

She held the sword out to him and he looked up at her. “You don’t want it back?”

 

“It’s not my father’s anymore. It was broke down and made into two swords. Brienne uses it to protect his daughters. You used it to protect the North. It’s yours.”

 

He reached out to take the hilt but hesitated. He shook his head. “I should have known, shouldn’t I? Everyone else is so able to see her deceit,” he finally took the sword from her and slid it into the scabbard at his side.

 

“I don’t know that you could have predicted this. I know I didn’t doubt it. Bran initially told us she was pregnant. But…I suppose he sees things out of sequence sometimes. At least that’s how he explained it…”

 

He closed his eyes. “How many lies have I believed from her over the years?”

 

Sansa frowned. “A lot, probably. She trades in deceit. Cersei once told me that a woman’s most powerful weapon was what was between her legs. That’s how she viewed it, as a weapon. It would be naive to believe that she never used it against you.”

 

“You’re not deceitful. You tell me the truth even if I don’t want to hear it.”

 

She tilted her head as she watched him. He was older than her. Old enough to be her father, that was true. But she still found him handsome and was drawn to him. And though, once, she would have been disgusted at herself given all he had done to ruin her family, she felt like he had earned a bit of respect. She disliked the part of herself that suggested it, but she couldn’t make the feeling go away. And the longer he stared at her, the more stirred by him she felt. He didn’t pretend to be something he wasn’t with her. She knew what he did and who he was, and he didn’t act as if he was anything else.

 

“I believe you and I are far beyond lying to one another. Lies are told to either spare someone pain or to cause it. We don’t feel the need to do that with one another.” She took a step back and then started to walk around him when his hand caught her wrist again. She didn’t demand he release her or ask him what he was doing.

 

She stared down at his fingers and then back to his face. “What do you think I should do about the war?”

 

Sansa shook her head. “I will not help you decide. I won’t. I won’t be the reason you hate your choice. If you ride South to take up arms against Cersei, it has to be your decision and yours alone. And if you choose not do so, then you have to be the one to live with it. Don’t ask me.”

 

He nodded but didn’t release her hand. “What do you think I should about you?”

 

She felt her stomach flutter at the sound of his voice, but she wouldn’t allow him to use her as a replacement for Cersei. She put a hand on his chest and frowned. “Release me and let me go to the safety of my room.”

 

He looked affronted by her comment and his hand slackened around her wrist. “I wouldn’t hurt you.”

 

“Yes, you would. Not physically, but I won’t let you make me a stand-in for her. I won’t be a consolation prize,” she said as he released her and she began her walk from the woods. She was nearly to the gates as she felt him behind her and she whirled on him. “Don’t. Don’t make me want this. Don’t make me want you. You aren’t someone I can have,” she hissed and he looked conflicted. “Not like you are. You still love her as much as you hate her. And perhaps something about me reminds you of her. But I can’t be someone you turn to because you’re…just let me go,” she said, her voice cracking with the pain of her emotion.

 

“Sansa…”

 

“Please,” she whispered.

 

“You’re a consolation prize for _no one_. Least of all me. But…I’ll leave you. I’ll keep my distance.”

 

She nodded. “Thank you.” She hated how weak her voice sounded as she turned and left through the gates and practically ran back to the keep.

 


	47. Arya VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya has to wear a dress, sisterly confessions, and a conversation with Jon about how she earned her skills with the sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys. I'm sure you've noticed that I haven't been updating as regularly, but that's simply because the pace I was going I could no longer maintain. Posting every day has actually drained me. It's not writer's block, but writer's fatigue. I'm constantly writing every day, but the posting schedule I had assigned for myself was something I can't do. So, I think you'll start to see a few days between chapters, but no more than that. I'm trying to get ahead of chapters posting again.
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy and leave me comments. The outpouring of love and support for this fic has been amazing! Thank you. I do try to respond to everyone in the comments, just...don't be a troll.

 

 

**ARYA**

 

Arya frowned as she looked at her reflection in Sansa’s mirror. She hadn’t intended for Sansa to put a dress on her and she certainly hadn’t intended to have a handmaiden working at the hem. But Sansa and Missandei both examined the dress, a light grey, form-fitting at the top and the waist flaring out into a long skirt.

 

“This is not practical for fighting,” Arya grumped.

 

Missandei shook her head. “It’s for a wedding. I hope there won’t be any fighting.”

 

Arya turned to face her. “This family doesn’t have the greatest fortunes when it comes to weddings. My brother and mother were killed at one. Sansa was married off to two men she didn’t want to marry. It’s best if we’re all armed to the teeth and prepared for something to happen.”

 

Sansa heaved a sigh and helped drape the cape over her right shoulder, which would conceal her weapon, but leaving her left arm free to move. “Which is why I’ve thought of this contingency. I don’t trust it any more than you do. The Dothraki will be guarding the keep, the dragons close by, and everyone in attendance will have their weapons. If we are caught, we’ll be able to fight through it.”

 

She looked down at the dress and then moved to her sword belt and pulled it from its scabbard, then tested the movement of the dress. “The seam is too tight beneath my arm. I can’t get my arm over my head without nearly ripping the dress.”

 

Sansa nodded to the handmaiden and she went about marking the dress to let the seam out a bit. There was something wrong with Sansa. She’d tried to hide the fact that she wasn’t sleeping with her powders. There was also a sadness about her face and she frowned. She also hadn’t gloated that she had managed to get Arya into a dress with little to no fighting about it.

 

“It’s not bad. For a dress,” Arya said as she smiled at Sansa, but her sister didn’t return it and now Arya was worried. “Would you please leave me with my sister?”

 

Missandei nodded and told Sansa she would see her later about the special stitching of the Stark wolf. Sansa moved to sit at the edge of the bed and Arya moved behind her changing screen and put her clothes on once more. She came from around the screen, her jerkin hanging open along the back and she needed Sansa to do it for her.

 

Sansa began to tie the laces and Arya smile. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

 

“Nothing,” she said, though Arya was even more convinced that she was lying.

 

“So, you want to play the game of faces...”

 

“Arya,” she warned.

 

“You won’t be honest with me. What should I do? I know you’re upset, but I don’t know why or how I can help unless you tell me.”

 

“You can’t help,” her tone was defeated which only caused more worry from Arya.

 

“But you are upset,” she said.

 

She could see that Sansa was trying to come up with a reason, a purpose for being upset, not willing to give her the full truth. When she started speaking, her eyes turned away and her face flushed, Arya knew it was a half-truth. “You’re leaving. Jon’s leaving. Daenerys. Tyrion, Missandei...”

 

Arya then smiled. “Jaime” She had only meant it to tease as she knew that her sister had a girl’s infatuation with the man. But upon seeing how her face flushed more and she didn’t chastise Arya for her jest, she wondered if it had more to do with Jaime than she thought. If he had hurt her sister, he’d pay with his life.

 

Sansa’s hands stilled and she sat on the bed once more. “He asked me what I thought he should do.”

 

She didn’t know why Sansa looked so conflicted about that question. It had a simple enough answer to her. “And you told him to go kill his evil sister, right?”

 

She shook her head. “No. I can’t make the choice for him even though I want to. I don’t want him to resent me for the choice he makes.”

 

Arya turned to see the dejected look on Sansa’s face. “That can’t be what has you so upset.”

 

Sansa put her head in her hands, then looked up at Arya with tears in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Arya. I should hate him. Everything in me is _screaming_ for me to hate him!” she said as she stood and began pacing the room. Arya was uneasy at seeing Sansa so clearly conflicted and distraught. “Why can’t I stop how I feel?”

 

Arya frowned and she wondered about the relationship between her sister and Jaime. Personally, she didn’t care enough about him to want him dead or alive, but clearly, Sansa did. How had she gotten so close? “Have you been spending time with him?”

 

“Moments...here and there.”

 

“Alone?” Sansa wrung her hands and Arya sighed then sat on the bed. “You’re attracted to him. We know that. Do you have _actual_ feelings for him?”

 

She sobbed out, “Yes.”

 

Arya stood, stepped forward and hugged Sansa because she looked like she needed one. “How did this happen?”

 

Sansa released her and shook her head. “I don’t know. I spent time with him when he was injured and...sword fighting. Three days ago I was in the Godswood after he found out about Cersei’s lie. He looked so broken and alone and I...I should have left him alone. I should never have said anything to him,” she panted. “I wanted him, Arya. I wanted to kiss him and I wanted him to kiss me, but I can’t be a replacement. I can’t be the person to fill in the hole of Cersei.”

 

Arya frowned. “Did he say that you would be?”

 

“No one would ever say that,” Sansa turned away from her sister and fidgeted with the clips on her vanity table. “He was distraught about her. What was I supposed to think?”

Arya sat on the edge of the bed and watched her. “I probably would have thought the same thing. Do you trust him?”

 

She nodded. “Yes.”

 

“Do you think he would lie to you?”

 

“No. We don’t lie to each other.”

 

“Have you talked to him again?”

 

“No. He said he would keep his distance from me if that’s what I wanted. And he has.”

 

“But it’s not what you want,” Arya said, frustrated with her sister. “What’s really happening here? I’m not, by any means, encouraging your relationship with _Jaime Lannister,_ of all people. But I can see how sad you are. You clearly don’t want to feel like you do, but...you can’t help who you love.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “I don’t think it’s love.”

 

“How do you know? Have you ever been in love?”

 

She shook her head. “No. I don’t think it’s love. I think...it could be if I let myself fall.”

 

“What’s stopping you?”

 

“Fear. I don’t want to be the thing he uses to get over Cersei only to find out later that he doesn’t want me. I was just...convenient. I don’t want to be used. I will never be used again.”

 

A knock sounded on the door and Sansa turned to her mirror to fix her face. “Who is it?”

 

“Daenerys. Missandei told me you finished Arya’s dress, I was hoping to see it,” she said through the door. Arya opened the door for their soon-to-be sister.

 

“Oh, you’ve already changed,” she said, a slight frown on her face. She found the dress lying across Sansa’s bed, though and looked it over. “It is very lovely, Sansa. Do you like it?” she asked as she looked to Arya.

 

“It’s a dress. I’ve been told I have to wear one.”

 

Daenerys frowned. “I didn’t say you did.”

 

“No, Sansa did,” she explained.

 

Daenerys looked at Sansa and then frowned. “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes. “She’s not really.” Sansa gave Arya a menacing look, but they both knew there was no threat behind it. Sansa had no chance of ever taking Arya in a fight.

 

Daenerys frowned. “Has someone hurt you? I’ll feed them to Drogon,” she answered and it actually caused Arya to smile and even a slight upturn of Sansa’s lips. “Jon will help me,” she reassured.

 

Arya frowned. “Daenerys might be able to help you better than I could. I haven’t endured all you have. I don’t...have the same sort of reservations you might have.”

 

Sansa shook her head. “I’m sure she has better things to do than to listen to my problems.”

 

Daenerys moved to sit at the chair of Sansa’s vanity table. “Nonsense. We’re going to be sisters. And a queen’s duty is to listen to the problems of her people. You’re more than just ‘people’, though. What’s troubling you?”

 

At Sansa’s silence, Arya huffed out a frustrated breath. “Tell her.”

 

Sansa stared at her hands. “I’m conflicted about a man.”

 

Daenerys sighed, a wistful smile on her face. “What is the conflict, my lady?”

 

“I should hate him. But I find that I don’t anymore.”

 

“Your opinion and feelings changed. Obviously for a reason.”

 

She nodded. “He and his family have caused a great deal of pain to ours.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes at Sansa’s insistence on speaking of him without using his name. But judging by the look on Daenerys’s face, she knew of whom Sansa spoke.

 

“And does Ser Jaime return these affections?”

 

Arya smiled triumphantly as her sister’s secret was fully revealed. Sansa looked at Daenerys and took a deep breath. “I believe so. But...I asked him to stay away from me.”

 

“And has he?”

Sansa nodded. “Yes.”

 

Daenerys spoke softly. “I understand the reservations you might have. Not just of allowing someone to have your heart but to believe that someone could be...gentle with you after what you endured. And whether or not you believe that is actually a reason, it’s always in the back of your mind, gnawing at you. Constantly wondering if he would be like the only other man you’d known and hurt you. You and I have suffered at the hands of men. It’s hard to believe that there are any men in this world that would be worthy of what we have. I’m not saying Jaime Lannister is worthy of you. But if you feel he is, don’t hesitate. We have so little time here, and it can all end quickly...”

 

“I don’t want to be a replacement for Cersei.”

 

Daenerys sighed. “Then don’t be. Be more. Demand more.” She looked to Arya. “What do you think?”

 

Arya’s eyes widened. “About her and Jaime? She could do better.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “I tend to agree. However, I will give him the respect he’s earned. He rode North, against the wishes of Cersei, to come help us. He proved on the field that he would fight for us all. And obviously, he’s had some sort of significant impact on you. He may have done horrible things. But Brienne vouches for his honor, and I can imagine no higher praise from someone. He’s proven it since he’s been here. He and I don’t see eye-to-eye on things because, while I do understand why he killed my father, my life was demolished when he did.” She heaved a sigh. “Tyrion loves him, and as he has repeatedly told me time and time again, he is an excellent judge of character. But none of this matters if you’re unsure.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes, but Daenerys smiled at Sansa who returned it. “Not unsure. Afraid. I’m afraid.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “I know that feeling. I think even your sister knows that feeling.” She sighed. “Falling in love with someone is terrifying. You’re trusting them to be careful with you, to show you the same reverence you would give to them. Not everyone is worthy of it. Sometimes, it happens that you’re in the middle before you ever realized there was a beginning.”

 

“And the end?”

 

Daenerys shared a look with Arya. Their stories, their loves, had finite solutions. There would be marriages, there would be children. What Sansa’s end with Jaime would be was unknown. “I can’t say, Sansa. And I know the uncertainty, after everything, is as frustrating as realizing you have feelings in the first place. It’s hard to want something only to realize you can’t actually have it. I thought I had to endure that with Jon. I thought he’d died and I was going to mourn a man I had only just realized I loved. It’s excruciating. A broken heart won’t kill you, but you wish it would.”

 

“I suppose asking you what I should do would be advice you wouldn’t want to give.”

 

Arya stepped forward now. “You have to live with the choice, Sansa. You don’t want him to resent you for telling him what to do. You can’t ask us to do the same.”

 

Daenerys turned to Arya and smiled. “I suppose it would be too much to ask to see you in your dress?”

 

Arya rolled her eyes. “I already have to wear it for your ceremony. Do I really have to put it back on?”

 

Sansa collected herself and lifted the dress from the bed. “Yes,” she said as she pushed Arya behind the changing screen.

 

*~*

 

Jon was leaning against the wall of the courtyard as he watched Sansa squared off against Podrick, both with blunted blades. Brienne was standing close, giving instruction to both, and Pod managed to disarm her. Arya shook her head. Her sister was trying too much. She looked around and watched as Gendry was speaking with a few of the blacksmiths about something, and then he laughed. There were a few soldiers milling about, Lord Glover was speaking with Lady Mormont who seemed to be putting him firmly in his place. And then, on top of the rampart, she saw him, alone as he leaned against the edge watching Sansa. He was keeping his distance as he told Sansa he would. She’d have to suss out exactly what it was Jaime wanted with her sister soon.

 

But for now, she had Jon alone, and she would take the opportunity to spend time with her brother. “How long until you’re showing everyone in the yard your skill with the sword?”

 

Jon smirked as she leaned against the wall with him and he shook his head. “It still hurts to breathe at times. The Maester assures me that it shouldn’t be much longer before I am back to my old self, but I feel like that can’t get here soon enough. Believe me, as soon as I can, I will.”

 

“Miss fighting?”

 

He shook his head. “There’s something familiar about swinging a sword. I know how to do that. It’s all the other stuff I’m lacking in.”

 

“What other stuff?”

 

“Ruling. Daenerys is confident. I usually feel less so. I don’t want to make a decision that could cost people their lives when they didn’t have to die.”

 

“You’re much better at ruling than you think. You care about what happens to your people, Jon. I don’t know many other rulers who would give it a second thought. Daenerys seems to care. So, it sounds to me that you and Daenerys are good matches for one another.”

 

He nodded and smiled. “We are. You and Gendry as well.”

 

She looked at him again, showing the smiths his hammer, around the place where the antlers of the stag drifted towards the pommel. “I loved him as a girl and now I’m more in love with him as a woman.”

 

“And you’re happy with his decision to go to Storm’s End?”

 

She nodded. “We made it together. He’s not going anywhere I don’t follow and he feels the same. We’re equals.”

 

Sansa disarmed Podrick this time, swept her leg and as he fell to the ground she held her blade to his throat. Brienne spoke. “I don’t think I showed you that move, yet.”

 

“Courtesy of Arya,” she said and glanced at her sister.

 

Brienne gave Arya a smile. Sansa helped Podrick stand and handed him his sword. Her eyes drifted back to Jaime who turned his head away from watching them. _Is he jealous of Pod?_

 

“Are you ever going to tell me how you acquired your skill with the sword? I know about the Faceless Men...but how long did you train?”

 

She sighed. “I don’t actually know. I was blind for a while...”

 

“Blind?” Jon stiffened at the statement and she nodded. “But you have your sight back?”

 

“I took a life that they told me wasn’t mine to take. I was meant to be ‘no one’. The life was for me, Arya, to take.”

 

Jon frowned. “Who?”

 

“Meryn Trant.”

 

Jon was silent for a moment and then looked at her with an expression of understanding. “One of Joffrey’s Kingsguard?”

 

She nodded. “He took pleasure in hurting little girls. He never saw me coming. I gouged out his eyes...stabbed him, made sure he knew my name before I slit his throat. My punishment was that I could no longer see. Only when I earned it back did it return.”

 

“Was he your first kill?”

 

She shook her head. “My first was an accident. In King’s Landing. I...I didn’t mean to kill him. It was a stable boy...”

 

“King’s Landing. You were still a girl.”

 

She nodded. “As I said, it was an accident.”

 

“And the second one?”

 

“Not an accident,” she said as she looked over at him. “We haven’t spoken about this, but I feel I should tell you as it is one of the things that helped me get through what I did. I made a list of names. People I wanted to kill. Joffrey was always first. Cersei, Meryn Trant, The Mountain, Illyn Payne, Polliver, Thoros of Myr, Beric Dondarrion, the red witch, Walder Frey, and at one time, the Hound.”

 

Jon frowned. “Why Beric and Thoros?”

 

“They sold Gendry to the Red Witch. They knew she was going to kill him and they sold him anyway,” she said as she looked down at the snow. “Gendry had been with me since we left King’s Landing. He’d worked out that I was a girl and kept my secret. So, when I left Harrenhal, I took him and Hot Pie with me. And then we met the Brotherhood,” she shook her head. “It all seemed to go downhill from there.”

 

“And the Hound? He’s still living.”

 

She could see him talking to Tormund as the ginger-haired man watched Brienne intently. “I wanted him dead for a while. I promised to put my sword through his eye. But when he was beaten by Brienne and I had the chance to kill him...I didn’t. I wasn’t able to face that I didn’t want him to die until I was in the House of Black and White. I had removed him from my list without realizing it.”

 

He then sighed. “Your red witch. Melisandre?”

 

Arya looked over at him and nodded. “Yes. She...hurt him. I’ll take her life if I see her again.”

 

“She brought me back to life,” he said. “But when she told me that she had killed Princess Shireen, still a girl...Davos thought of her as a daughter. Loved her as one. But...she had burned her at the stake to satisfy her god. I left her alive because she brought me back. But I couldn’t allow her to stay in the North. She’s the one who told Daenerys I was the King in the North and to summon me.”

 

Gendry was making his way over to them, his hammer strapped to his back. “I’m glad she brought you back. But I will kill her for what she did to Gendry,” she said softly.

 

“Does he want that?”

 

She shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. I took Beric off my list for him. I won’t do it again.” Gendry smirked as Podrick was once more knocked to his back. He wrapped an arm around Arya’s shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “You always seem so happy to see him beaten down.”

 

Gendry smirked. “Not happy. Amused.”

 

“You refuse to fight me, so who’s to say you wouldn’t end up in the same position?” Arya teased.

 

“I will never fight you. I don’t think my pride could handle it,” he mused. Arya rolled her eyes, slipping her arm inside his cloak and beneath the heavy leather vest, her fingers moving against his skin. She could feel the heat of his stare even as he spoke to Jon. “Married in two days.”

 

Jon nodded. “What about you two?” he asked and Arya dug her nails into Gendry’s back and he winced. “You’re a Lord, you’re a Lady. I’d never pressure you to get married, but I do find myself asking why.”

 

Arya sighed. “Because it’s what other people would want. It should be about more than that.”

 

“You don’t think you can have both?”

 

She shook her head.  “I don’t feel like I have to be married to be with Gendry. Why should I do something simply because other people expect it of me? I’m happy. He’s happy,” she said, chancing a glance up at him to find him smiling down at her. “Why do we need more than that?”

 

Daenerys exited onto the rampart and she noticed Jon take instant notice. He smiled and shook his head. “You don’t.” Tyrion and Davos soon joined her as did Jaime. Tyrion and his brother left the courtyard for indoors. She soon started down the stairs, her hands folded in front of her. For some reason, Arya thought it made her look taller. “Arya, Gendry,” she said with a nod of her head. “Jon, I was going to fly on Drogon. Perhaps you should ride Rhaegal.”

 

He nodded and turned to Arya. “We’ll speak later,” he said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder before he walked off.

 

Sansa called an end to her practice and Arya snuggled more into Gendry’s side. “How are you always so warm?” She asked.

 

He shook his head. “I’m always freezing. Didn't you accuse me of complaining about the cold?”

 

She watched Brienne and Podrick follow Sansa inside and realized that she had alone time with Gendry. “Let’s go for a ride of our own,” she grinned up at him.

 

He chuckled. “That was almost subtle.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Who has time for subtlety?”


	48. Jaime IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime speaks with his brother regarding Sansa. Try as he might, he can't stay away from her. And Cersei makes a move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon is after this chapter as it should be a nice long one. But I hope you guys like this chapter. I rewrote it no less than 4 times.

 

 

**JAIME**

 

He followed Tyrion inside and knew his brother would provide a decent enough distraction from his misery. He’d done nothing but think of his conversation with Sansa for days, hating that he even allowed her to think that he might think of her like Cersei.

 

His sister had been in his thoughts as well. The furious hatred he felt in his chest for her grew each day. He might be able to forgive her for nearly having him killed and refusing to help in the war against the dead, but how could she tell him she was pregnant? His heart hurt thinking about the fact that he was mourning another child, and this one had never existed.

 

“How are you?” Tyrion asked.

 

“As well as can be expected, I suppose.”

 

“Ready to kill someone?”

 

Jaime stopped walking and looked at Tyrion. “If this is another attempt to goad me into helping your side...”

 

He shook his head. “It’s not. It’s genuine concern. I know you, Jaime. There’s not a possibility that this isn’t eating at you.”

 

As they walked through the hall, the other door opened and they both watched as Sansa, Brienne, and Podrick walked through, oblivious to their presence. Jaime’s eyes followed her as she spoke with Brienne and he didn’t look away until she had made her way through the door on the opposite side of the hall. He knew he needed to speak with her eventually. He was afraid to do so, knowing that whatever he said, she probably wouldn’t hear. He didn’t compare them. If nothing else came from it, he wanted her to know that.

 

He looked at Tyrion when he felt his eyes on him, and there was a knowing if not sad smile upon his face. “She does seem to have an effect on us.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “At least do me the courtesy of not lying to me. We’ve always been rather honest with one another. It would be a shame to start now.”

 

Jaime was silent and made his way through the hall and towards his room, hoping that Tyrion wasn’t following him. He was sadly mistaken, though, when he opened the door and Tyrion pushed past him. “You and I might as well discuss it.”

 

“And why would I do that?”

 

“You’re short on friends. Would you dare speak to Brienne about your feelings for Sansa?”

 

Jaime winced and closed the door. “You’re almost as bad as Bronn,” he said as he removed his heavy cloak and stretched his nearly healed arm over his head. The cold made it ache worse. He hated the North, and the only thing that was keeping him there...was someone who wanted him to keep his distance.

 

“Is it lust or love?”

 

“Neither,” he said, and then closed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

 

“And is she aware of your _indescribable_ feelings?”

 

Tyrion took a seat in the chair in front of the fire and Jaime sat in the one opposite and ran his hand over the back of his neck, feeling the tension building at the nape. “I’m uncomfortable discussing this with you.”

 

“Why? You and I have always discussed women.”

 

“You’ve discussed. I’ve had to endure.”

 

“Then I feel I owe you my ear.”

 

He heaved a heavy sigh and leaned his head back against the chair. “She’s...partially aware.”

 

“Meaning you allowed her to assume how you feel?”

 

“I don’t know how I fucking feel,” he said, but he knew that was a lie.

 

Tyrion gave an indelicate snort. “That’s a lie.”

 

Jaime looked at him. “What do you want me to say?”

 

“The truth. Whatever or however ugly it may be. Sansa doesn’t know how you feel about her, correct?”

 

“She assumed something incorrectly and I didn’t...I let her walk away.”

 

“And now you suffer in silence.”

 

“It would be silent if we stopped talking about it,” he mumbled.

 

“I think you need to get thoroughly drunk.”

 

“Drinking isn’t the solution to every problem,” Jaime said, tired already and it wasn’t even noon.

 

“This is true. But for matters of the heart, it tends to...deaden you.”

 

“I don’t want to feel dead. I nearly died. I don’t much care for the feeling.”

 

The room was silent and Jaime tried to erase the sight of Sansa swinging her sword, her flame red hair pulled into a braid that flew around behind her. However, all he saw when he closed his eyes was her. Tyrion tilted his head. “Why didn’t you tell her the truth? Whatever assumption she made. Why didn’t you correct her?”

 

He shook his head. “She...she needed me to let her go.”

 

“May I ask what it was that caused all of this?”

 

Jaime thudded his head back against the chair and rubbed his fingers over his eyes before he spoke. “It was after you told me about Cersei,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

 

“And you stormed from the room, yes, I remember.”

 

“I went to the Godswood, for whatever reason. And she was there. I don’t...feel the need to hide who I am from her. I feel that way with other people, but, she and I haven’t been on the friendliest of terms since I’ve been here. I don’t...care to lie to her. So, I asked her what she thought I should do about Cersei.” He sighed. “I thought she would tell me to ride South to see her dead, but she didn’t. She told me it had to be my choice and she refused to let me resent her for helping me make one I later regretted.”

 

Tyrion nodded. “Rather practical.”

 

“Extremely. I don’t know if she was afraid or if she truly thought that what she was saying was true, but she accused me of trying to replace Cersei with her.”

 

“And you didn’t correct her...” Tyrion finished.

 

“I was stunned by the accusation. When I went to confront her about it, to clarify, she just...looked at me with this...I don’t ever want someone to look at me like that again. She told me to not make her want this. And she wasn’t going to be a consolation prize.”

 

“Ah, my _wife_. Such a flair for the dramatic. And you let her go?”

 

“I gave her what she wanted.”

 

“What about what you want?”

 

He shook his head. “What I want is complicated.”

 

“Does it have to be?”

 

Jaime looked at Tyrion and heaved a sigh. “How can it _not_ be? She’s the Lady of Winterfell. I nearly killed her brother when he was a child. Our family is the reason her father, mother, and brother are dead. In what world, Tyrion, is anything I feel for her _not_ complicated?”

 

He sighed. “Lucky for you, Daenerys and Jon plan to build a new world. Maybe in that one, you can have what you want.”

 

He shook his head. “It’s rather bleak, at best.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “Are you sure you don’t want to take up drinking?” When Jaime shook his head, his brother rolled his eyes. “This has a simple solution of you talking to her and explaining yourself. You have to. That girl probably feels wretched. Believing that you would choose to replace Cersei, of all people, with her? I don’t know that there is a greater insult. At the very least, you should assuage her worries and make her see that you don’t feel that way.”

 

“And why would she believe me?”

 

“As you said, you two don’t lie to one another. Then tell her the truth.”

 

“And then what? Hmm?”

 

“You’ve always been short-sighted. Then you let her decide. That woman, who has had very little choice in what happened to her over the last several years; she decides if you're worthy of her. Don’t take another choice from her.”

 

“And if she decides I’m not?”

 

“Then you know you can feel something for someone other than Cersei. And it can be a woman who is lovely and kind.”

 

“She killed her last husband.”

 

“A husband who raped and tortured her. No one deserved it more. You, I feel, would treat her much better.”

 

“And what about you?”

 

He scoffed. “Sansa never wanted me. We’re friendly, yes, because we both hated Joffrey and Cersei. That was quite a bonding experience. But it never went beyond that. She’s a good person and one that I want to see happy. And if you can be the one to make her so, then do it. But don’t allow her to think something so atrocious as her being a replacement for Cersei.”

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

Tyrion shook his head. “You’ve grown more cautious as you’ve grown older. The younger man would have gone after what he wanted.”

 

“Yes, well, the old man has lost his hand. The incentive to move is much harder to gain.”

 

They were both silent for a moment and Tyrion looked at Jaime and his gaze made him uncomfortable. “Would it be worth it if she felt for you what you obviously feel for her?”

 

He frowned. “I’m tired of disappointing people. I don’t want to add her to the list.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “If it makes you feel better, you’ve never disappointed me.”

 

Jaime looked into the fire and a small smile tugged at his lips. “It does, a little.”

 

“Speak to Sansa. She could surprise you.”

 

*~*

 

Jaime still avoided Sansa, trying to respect her request to leave her be. But Tyrion’s words echoed in his head. _Then you let her decide. That woman, who has had very little choice in what happened to her over the last several years; she decides if you're worthy of her. Don’t take another choice from her._ He never wanted to be accused of someone who didn’t give her a choice. And he knew she didn’t know everything. She hadn’t been made aware of his real feelings. She assumed and that was a dangerous prospect.

 

He knew she was outside practicing alone. He could hear the sound of her sword clanging off the practice dummy. Could almost picture her. He stayed away from the window, not wanting to be tempted to go down to her. As he stared up at the canopy of his bed, it was growing harder with every clang of her sword off metal.

 

He cursed himself a fool and got dressed quickly, hoping she didn’t leave the courtyard before he arrived there. He tugged on his boots, threw on his heavy cloak, tied his sword around his waist, and left his room. He observed her from the shadows for a moment, because if this was the last conversation he was allowed to have with her, he wanted to take it into memory.

 

He descended the stairs and stood behind her for only a moment before she dropped her hand and lowered her head. She looked over her shoulder at him and heaved a sigh. “I’m not in the mood for talking,” she said softly and slid her sword into the scabbard at her side.

 

She turned and faced him, her expression one of sadness and anger. He hated it. “We need to discuss the other night and what you said.”

 

She shook her head. “You said you would keep your distance,” she said as she glanced at the guards around the walls and courtyard and could see a few of them watching them. “But if you insist on this conversation, follow me,” she said as she led the way to the Godswood and closed the gate behind her. As they came to the white tree, Jaime was amazed that it still carried its red leaves.

 

“You assumed you knew what I was thinking and how I felt about you.”

 

“I thought it was a fair assumption,” she said, one hand on the hilt of her sword and the other tucked behind her. Arya had even taught her how to stand when only wearing the sword.

 

He shook his head. “I have never thought to replace Cersei. You and I are honest with one another. So, I’ll be as honest as I can: I care for you. I don’t know how or why or even what to do about it. I know that I can not allow you to think that I ever wanted you to be a replacement for her. It’s not fair to you and I couldn’t allow you to think that.”

 

Sansa closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “You let me think it for three days.”

 

“I told you I would keep my distance. And I tried. I did. But...I’m a fool, Sansa. It takes me a while to realize I’m being an idiot. I’m sorry I allowed you to think it for even a moment. You deserve better.”

 

He started to walk away and her voice stopped him. “So, that’s it? You're going to walk away? You’re going to leave me with no opportunity to say anything to you?”

 

He turned to face her once more and he saw the defiant tilt of her chin and the angry flash of her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

 

She shook her head. “I don’t need you deciding what’s best for me. Too many people have made choices for me in my life to my detriment. I’ve suffered at their hands.” She spoke through her clenched teeth and he thought she was near to strangling him with her own hands. “I told you not to make me want this.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “I already do. It seems only fair that you share my burden.”

 

“It’s a burden to feel things for me?”

 

“Yes! It’s a burden! I watch you and...you’re beautiful and young and I’m unworthy to even want you. I hate how friendly you are with Podrick. I don’t necessarily care for how close you are with Tyrion. It’s a burden to carry this for you! Because I’ve felt so alone in it!”

 

She shook her head. “You’re not. It torments me. I feel I’m being ripped apart because of my loyalty to my family and how I feel for you!” She looked down at her hands. “I hate this. I hate feeling this way,” she said and he moved closer to her and lifted her chin so their eyes could meet. “Why can’t I hate you anymore?” He didn’t know what to say to her. And so he said nothing and allowed his hand to drop to his side. “If you’re going to stand this close you could at least kiss me.”

 

He cupped the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers. Her hand slipped beneath his cloak as she spread her fingers over his back. He thought she would be pliable and soft, but she kissed as she argued: fiery and dominating. His tongue met hers, and he moaned as she now pressed the length of her body against his. His arm wrapped around her back, holding her against him.

 

When she broke the kiss he thought that would be the end of it, but she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his again. He was sure that this was the sort of moment minstrels wrote songs: under the moonlight, in the Godswood, two people from rival houses meet for a romantic rendezvous.

 

He broke the kiss this time and traced her jaw with his thumb. She leaned into his hand and closed her eyes. He pressed his forehead against hers and sighed. “Better than my dreams.”

 

She smiled. “You dream of me?”

 

He nodded. “More than I’d like to admit. Do you dream of me?”

 

Her smile grew wicked. “I hardly think of you.”

 

He chuckled. “I’m glad to see that any change to our current relationship won’t mean an end to your biting wit and sarcasm.”

 

She shook her head. “Where is the fun in that?” She did take a step back from him and sigh. “What is our current relationship?”

 

He furrowed his brow. “Well, my lady, that is entirely up to you. You know I want this. I think you do as well. But if you say the words I will stay away.”

 

She shook her head. “I don’t want that. In the vein on honesty, I should tell you that I’m wary of men. I’ve been treated badly, scarred inside and out. I enjoyed the kissing,” she said with a smile, but it soon drifted away. “But I’m a Lady of Winterfell and a certain amount of propriety comes with the title. I’m not going to fall into bed with you on a whim. I need time to become comfortable with that.”

 

He nodded and took her hand. He brought it up to his lips even as she stepped closer. “You have time. _We_ have time.”

 

She seemed to recollect herself and held her head higher. “The guards are probably waiting outside the gates to make sure you haven’t done anything you shouldn’t have.”

 

He smirked. “I think we can both say that we’re engaged in something we shouldn’t be. But we lived through a war against the dead, so maybe the world could leave us be.”

 

Sansa nodded. “It’s a nice sentiment. Come, I think we’ve given enough fodder for the gossips.”

 

“And what will you say if asked?”

 

“The truth,” she said as she walked beside him out of the Godswood. “You’re mesmerized by my inability to swoon for you.”

 

He chuckled and noticed they did receive a few looks from the guards as they passed. “That is an attractive quality.”

 

Once they were inside the keep she faced him. “Arya knows how I feel, as does Daenerys. Bran sees everything so I’m sure he knows...”

 

“Count Tyrion on the list and...possibly Tormund.”

 

“Tormund? You’ve talked to him about me?”

 

“No, he simply observed that you looked at me as if you wanted to cut my liver out. Apparently, that’s a sign of infatuation among his people.”

 

She chuckled. “That explains his attention to Brienne.” They started down the corridor and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “Will you be training with us again in the morning?”

 

He nodded. “I will. If that meets your satisfaction.”

 

She shrugged. “I do like watching you with your sword.” He smirked and said nothing as he walked her to her room. “Thank you for seeing me to my chambers, Ser Jaime.”

 

He bowed his head. “Lady Sansa,” he said as he started to walk away only to have her grab his wrist and pulled him to her for another kiss. He could get addicted to her smell and taste. And just as he thought of pressing himself against her, she ended the kiss and slipped into her room with a smile.

 

Jaime walked down the corridor back to his room and entered, finding the fire lit and the torches low. He removed his cloak and draped it over a chair. A rope hanging from the canopy of his bed caught his attention. He stepped forward and tugged on it for a Lannister banner to unroll in front of him. He turned towards the door in time to duck the sword that swung at his head. He only managed to pull his sword from his scabbard before he was pressed against the wall with the other man’s sword at his throat. He felt the blade of his own press against his throat and swung his injured arm into the man’s face. He felt a blinding pain shoot through the limb but got his sword up in time to drive into the man’s gut.

 

He stopped his movement and dropped the sword in his hand, then dropped to the floor in front of him. The clang of metal could be heard in the corridor as he rushed out of his room to see Podrick fighting against another would-be assassin as Tyrion rushed into the now open doorway of Jaime’s room. Pod slit the man’s throat as he was distracted by the appearance of Jaime. He looked to Tyrion who was staring at the dead man on Jaime’s floor and his attention turned to the banner hanging from Jaime’s bed.

 

“Podrick stay with Tyrion as you go get Brienne.”

 

“Where are you going?” Tyrion questioned.

 

“To make sure your queen and king are still alive,” he said as he moved down the hallway and up to the chambers for the Stark family. He heard glass break behind a door and he banged on it, but the door splintered in front of him as a man crashed through it. He saw Gendry, war hammer in hand and Arya with her sword as she pulled open the now broken door and stepped out into the hallway, driving her sword into the man’s throat.

 

“Check on Jon!” Jaime ordered as he moved across the hall to Sansa’s room and banged on the door. “SANSA! Sansa!”

 

He banged against it with his shoulder, kicked it twice with his foot before Gendry shoved him aside and with one swing caused a hole to form in the door. Jaime could see her on the floor, her back to her bed and her hands covered in blood. He reached through and undid the latch, then pushed open the door. The man in front of her had the Valyrian steel blade sticking from his eye and Sansa had blood on her hands and even some spattered on her face.

 

He moved into the room and looked her over to make sure she wasn’t hurt. There was a bruise forming beneath her right eye, but she looked whole and uninjured. “Sansa,” he whispered.

 

He then saw the banner hanging from her open armoire. Her table had been knocked over, one of the chairs broken, but she was in one piece.

 

Jaime wrapped her in his arms and she started to cry, and he only felt relief as her arms wrapped around his neck. His arm throbbed, his neck hurt, but they were both alive.  He sensed someone behind him and saw that it was Arya, half dressed, bloody sword in hand. “Jon and Daenerys are alright. Ghost killed the man before he got into the room good. Sansa, are you alright?’

 

She nodded but didn’t release Jaime. “Bran?” she asked.

 

Arya nodded. “Bran is fine. He...warged a guard, I think. Jon interrupted before I could speak with him.”

 

Brienne, Tormund, Podrick, and Tyrion came into view through the door as he heard Daenerys’s voice speaking to Tyrion. “Missandei?”

 

Tyrion nodded. “She was with some of the Dothraki. They searched her room and no one was found.”

 

Jon’s voice rang out. “Everyone into the hall until this castle is searched top to bottom.”

 

Jaime helped Sansa to her feet. She touched the wound at his throat and he winced. “Are you alright?”

 

He shook his head. “I think I might have made my arm worse,” he said finally. “But let’s get to the hall and we can sort it out there,” he said as he glanced at the dead body on the floor of her room. She’d managed to defend herself.

 

*~*

 

Sansa used a salve on Jaime’s throat as the Maester tended to Jaime’s arm. He watched as her cheek grew more swollen and bruised by the minute. Whatever she was putting on the cut at his throat smelled horrible, like something that had died. But as long as she was touching him, he wouldn’t complain.

 

“We’ll have to splint your arm again, as a precaution.”

 

He looked around the room as Arya was wrapping linens around Gendry’s abdomen as the man had been sliced across the middle. His paramour was mumbling to herself about killing Cersei, which he wasn’t sure was actually considered mumbling as he could clearly hear her.

 

“My Lady, I feel I’m a terrible protector,” Brienne said as she stood above them.

 

Sansa smiled and shook her head. “Brienne, every time it’s happened, you’ve been where you need to be. I have no doubt that you would have given your life to protect me. Luckily, you’ve been teaching me to protect myself.”

 

“I’m very happy you’re alright,” she said as she glanced at Jaime and he nodded at her.

 

Jon entered the room and tossed red banners onto the table. “Bran, Sansa, Arya and Gendry, Tyrion, Jaime, and Daenerys and I. She meant to murder us all in our sleep, I suppose,” he said angrily.

 

Tyrion frowned. “We need to begin a true plan of attack. This could have simply been a warning.”

 

“I’d hate to see what a real threat looked like,” Gendry mumbled as Arya tied off the bandage.

 

“Attacking her now, with the dragons, can’t be an option,” Bran said, his voice laced with concern.

 

Daenerys stepped forward. “Why?”

 

He sighed. “She’s put Wildfire under the entire city, outside the gates...the keep as well. If you burn it, the whole city will ignite.”

 

“How does she expect to live through this?” Tyrion asked.

 

Bran shook his head. “If you take the city, she won’t live anyway. At least this way, she takes everyone with her.”

 

Jon leaned against the table, hung his head, then looked to Daenerys. “Yara and Theon will arrive tomorrow. It might be easier once we have all the players in the same room.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “We have to find a way to get to her without all of those people dying.”

 

Daenerys sat in one of the chairs as she looked over from Tyrion, Davos, and then to Jon. “How do we do that?”

 

Jaime looked at Sansa and knew that at least eight people were nearly assassinated in their rooms tonight. His sister, the woman he’d once loved, had nearly killed him three times now. He stood and closed his eyes, feeling Sansa’s on him. “I can get to her,” he said and everyone turned to look at him. “I can get into the keep and into her chambers without anyone knowing.”

 

Jon frowned. “How?”

 

“The same way I got into her room all the time. I can get to her.”

 

“You don’t think she’ll be expecting you?” Jon questioned.

 

Tyrion spoke. “No. Not Jaime. Me, she would see me coming. But not him.”

 

Jaime sighed. “If someone else can take out the Mountain. I can handle her.”

 

Arya spoke then. “The Hound. He’d at least be the distraction you’d need.”

 

Daenerys frowned and when she spoke, her tone was calm though she looked to be anything but. “You’ve been uncertain as to whether or not you were going with us. You’ve made your decision, then?”

 

“I believe it was made for me when she put an assassin in my room.”

 

Jon nodded. “We’ll discuss it in the morning. Guards will be posted outside of your rooms. Arya and Sansa, your doors are being replaced as we speak. Tormund,” he called and the Wildling looked up. “Do you think we could ask the Free Folk to guard my family?”

 

“I think you could ask them to do a number of things and they would follow you. But I’ll ask.”

 

He nodded. “No one goes anywhere alone. Groups, at least two, at all times.”

 

“And your wedding? That’s still happening, right?” Sansa asked.

 

Daenerys nodded. “It most certainly is. The Targaryens and the Starks will unite. And then we will plan our march on King’s Landing.”

 


	49. Jon IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon and Yara arrive, alone time for Daenerys and Jon, and the wedding begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, it's taken me so long to get this update to you guys! However, it is a long one and has a lot in it. I hope you all like it.

 

 

**JON**

 

Jon entered the room, leaving two of the Unsullied outside the door. While the Free Folk were going to guard Sansa and Arya, Daenerys felt more comfortable with her soldiers, men who swore to kill for her outside their door. He acquiesced. He found her seated in a chair with a wet linen in her hand as she tried to rid Ghost of the blood around his maw. The wolf was humoring her, Jon knew. The only way for it to be completely gone would be for a bath and he’d call for that in the morning. He felt safer with his direwolf in the room.

 

She looked over at Jon; her violet eyes finding his as he removed his sword from his waist, putting it beside his side of the bed and then removed his jerkin. “Are you going to start brooding?” she asked, her tone almost playful, but he was not in the mood for a jest. Someone had tried to kill his family. He felt as if he had the right to be upset. He said nothing to her question as she dropped the linen into the basin and Ghost moved onto the bed, lying across the foot. He was so large his paws hung off the end. She went to her side and he heard the shuffling of fabric, realizing she had removed her robe and was now seated on the bed behind him.

 

He tugged his tunic over his head and threw it to the floor followed by his boots and leathers. He sat on the edge again and put his head in his hands and took several deep breaths which still ached to do. He felt her fingers on his shoulders and closed his eyes as he relished in her touch. She kneaded the corded muscle there and he leaned back into her. “Speak to me, Jon Snow,” she said against his ear. “Don’t shut me out. Let me carry this burden with you.”

 

He frowned. “How?”

 

“Talk to me. Tell me what you feel. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

 

Jon leaned his head back against her shoulder and sighed. “I could have lost everyone important to me tonight. You, Arya, Sansa, and Bran…” he shook his head. “Have we been too complacent?”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“Have I done the wrong thing in curbing your desire to fly to the keep to kill her? Should we have done it months ago?”

 

She turned his face up to hers and pressed her forehead against his. “We can’t look back. Regrets are not something you and I can afford to have. It could shape how we react to things in the future. Negatively,” she said as she moved to sit beside him. “We can learn from our mistakes, but we can’t dwell on them, Jon. We have to be better that.”

 

“Was it a mistake, though?”

 

She shrugged and sighed. “Yes. No. When I see what she’s willing to do to keep her crown, how the people suffer under her boot? Yes, it’s a mistake we’ve allowed her to live this long. But how many people would have died had we acted? We’re trying to save people. Be different from what they’ve always known, right?” she reminded him of his own words said to her on the beach. The first time she had taken him into her counsel. “If I had done that, how would I have been different? If you had let me, how would you?”

 

“I suppose it’s easy to question when it’s my family on the line.”

 

“Everyone’s families are on the line, now,” she said with a soft smile. “And we’ll do everything we can to make sure they live.”

 

He was silent for a moment and turned to face her. “What do you think about Jaime offering to help?”

 

“She’s only tried to have him killed three times. I suppose everyone has their limit.”

 

“Do you think Tyrion was able to make him see reason?”

 

She gave him a brilliant smile. “Obviously something changed. Maybe it was the murder plot. Maybe it was the fact that she lied about being pregnant. Whatever the reason, if he can get to her without everyone in the city dying, then I’ll take his help.”

 

“He did fight well in the last battle we were in.”

 

She nodded. “He did,” she closed her eyes and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m tired, Jon. I’m tired of evil people and their agendas. I’m tired of wondering if I’m going to lose someone I love. I don’t want you to think that the burdens of this don’t weigh on me as well. They do.”

 

He cupped her face and brought her lips to his. “You handle it better.”

 

She gave a short laugh and shook her head. “I don’t think so. But you make me want to be better.”

 

“Aye. You make me better.” She pulled him against her and he followed her further onto the bed and pushed her to her back as he rested his head on her belly, his fingers skimming around her navel as she stroked her fingers through his hair. “Do you think it will be a girl or a boy?”

 

He couldn’t see her face, but he imagined she was smiling. “I don’t care so long as he or she is…healthy.”

 

“I know you’re scared.”

 

“Terrified,” she admitted.

 

He moved to prop himself on his elbow beside her. “I’m with you, Dany. No matter what happens, I’m with you.”

 

She pulled him against her, and he inhaled the scent of her. He held her to him. She pressed her lips to his, her hands moving along his sides and his skin twitched beneath her fingers. When they broke the kiss Jon reached for the heavy fur and pulled it over them. “The next few days are going to be hectic,” he commented and she nodded.

 

“Yara and Theon will arrive tomorrow. It pains me deeply what’s happened to her.”

 

He shook his head. “Theon told me he was going to get her. I’m glad he did. No one deserves that.”

 

“Some men only feel power when they’re making others feel weak beneath them. Some women for that matter,” she traced her thumb along the knife wound over his heart. “Some people can’t see what’s actually happening in the world because they’re too blinded by their own ambition. I was once such a fool. When we met. I couldn’t listen. Once you had refused to bend the knee, it was all I could do to contain my temper.”

 

He chuckled. “And now that I know you I’m amazed at your control.”

 

She poked him in the side and he winced. Daenerys smile anyway. “But I could only see my quest for the throne and nothing would take me from it.”

 

He took her hand in his and brought her fingers to his lips. “Nothing to regret. I’m not the greatest politician. I didn’t…consider how my statement would sound because I was so certain that nothing else mattered.”

 

“We defeated that enemy. Turns out the one in King’s Landing is equally dangerous.”

 

Jon closed his eyes. “We’ll handle it soon. Together.”

 

“Together.”

 

*~*

 

Jon heard the clanging of swords and sat up in the bed abruptly to see sunlight streaming in through the windows. Daenerys was seated at the table sipping tea and looked at him concerned. “Jon?”

 

He looked over at her and shook his head. “Swords.” She looked at him in understanding and he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “How long have you been awake?”

 

“Long enough to have food brought up, Ghost taken to have a bath, dressed, and have my hair braided,” she said before she sipped her tea.

 

“Why didn’t you wake me?”

 

She gave him a soft smile. “I so rarely get to watch you sleep. And you looked content, you never look that way,” she said as she placed her tea on the table in front of her. She was wearing a silver robe lined with fur and she moved to sit on his lap, her fingers moving through his dark hair. “You needed to rest.”

 

His arms moved around her, he leaned up to kiss her, tasting her tea on her tongue. His hand moved from her thigh up to her breast and she giggled against his lips. A knock at the door, however, interrupted their private interlude. “Yes?” Jon called.

 

“Your grace, Greyjoy riders approach the keep.”

 

“We’ll be down shortly. Let Lady Sansa know.”

 

Daenerys placed a kiss on his lips and moved from his arms. Jon dressed quickly, Daenerys seated in her chair watching him as he’d walked around the room naked. As he got his leathers laced up, he looked up to catch her eyes. “What?”

 

She grinned. “Simply thinking about the fine King I’ve managed to snag.”

 

He walked over to her and placed both hands on the arms of her chair, leaning in to press a kiss to her ear. “We have guests arriving and you’re trying to seduce me?”

 

She shrugged and tilted her head at him, a beatific smile on her face. “My queenly prerogative and I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that you were the one who walked around the room naked.”

 

Jon pulled away then donned his tunic and heavy jerkin, feeling Dany’s eyes on him the entire time. She finally stood from her chair and moved to the door and Missandei entered the room and gave Jon a smile. “Good morning, your grace.” Jon pulled on his boots and his heavy Northron cloak that Sansa had made for him while at Castle Black. It did remind him of his father’s. Would Ned Stark be proud of the man he had become? Would he be happy that he’d found a woman to love and who loved him? Would he be happy that he had a child on the way?

 

Missandei helped drape the chain over Daenerys’s chest, and as she finished dressing, Jon took her hand. “Shall we?” he asked and she nodded, Missandei following behind them as they exited their chamber. Tyrion and Davos met them in the hall and Jon and Daenerys moved to stand at the center of the room. Sansa, as the Lady of Winterfell, had been the one to meet them in the courtyard, Brienne her escort and protector. Arya soon joined Jon and Daenerys as a few others entered the room. Bran was rolled beside Arya and she looked down at him with a smile. However, Bran’s face was stoic, as per usual. He wondered if Bran held any sort of resentment towards Theon for what he’d done. He tried to be a person who forgave others, even if they didn’t deserve it. He was finding it harder and harder to hold on to that sort of philosophy.

 

Sansa entered the hall, Yara, and Theon behind her, Brienne and Podrick behind them. Jon could see the swell of Yara’s belly and the limp she had as she walked towards them. Sansa moved to take her place at Jon’s side, between Arya and Jon.

 

“Welcome,” Jon said, though he was lost on what to say next.

 

Daenerys, however, filled in for him. “We’ve been anticipating your arrival. Euron Greyjoy is dead?”

 

Theon nodded and Jon watched as he glanced at his sister. “He is.”

 

“A horrendous death, I hope,” Daenerys said softly as she stepped forward.

 

“Gruesome,” Yara responded.

 

She held out her hand to Yara and the other woman grasped her forearm. “Good.”

 

*~*

 

Jon and Daenerys had filled in Theon and Yara to everything that had happened once everyone had finished eating. Yara kept her arms folded behind her back as she examined the map of the Red Keep that Tyrion had drawn up. Daenerys, Tyrion, Davos, Missandei, Varys, Sansa, Jaime, Arya, Gendry, Sandor, Tales, and a Dothraki named Bofto rounded out the rest of the group.

 

Yara sighed. “So, what you’re saying is, we’re fucked.”

 

Jon rolled his eyes. “We were hoping you might have another idea.”

 

“What idea? She’s got Wildfire beneath the entire city. You’re going to sneak in her twin brother and _hope_ he can kill her, _hope_ that the Hound can kill the Mountain, and _hope_ no one is told to burn it all. Seems to me like this entire plan is built on fucking _hope_ ,” she pronounced.

 

“She still believes Euron is alive.”

 

“And what good does that do us?” Yara asked. “The second we sail to King’s Landing and he doesn’t get off the ship, it’s fucked. She’ll blow a crater into the world.”

 

“If she feels surrounded she will destroy the city. She’s not going to allow you to take her and she will destroy the throne before letting it go,” Jaime declared. “The only chance we have is for me to sneak in and...do what I must.”

 

“Kill her,” Daenerys said as she stared at Jaime. “It wouldn’t be the first time you killed the person who sat on the Iron Throne to protect people. Can you do truly do this?”

 

He nodded. “I can. It would be easier if I was to go South without riding with you.”

 

Sansa interrupted. “That’s unwise. She’s already tried to have you killed.”

 

He sighed and looked at Sansa, arguing his point. “I know that. But let’s face facts: she’s probably already got spies all along the road. There are probably spies within the walls of this keep. If I’m riding in with you, there’s no surprise. If I ride alone, a few days before you leave, I can stay hidden.”

 

Jon looked around the table and the only one who seemed to actually have a problem with what he was suggesting was Sansa. “How are you going to get to her?”

 

Jaime frowned. “The same way I always got into her room without everyone finding out,” he responded.

 

Tyrion spoke then. “As your Hands, Davos and I have spoken extensively about what we think should happen for your invasion, though Theon and Yara were a new advantage. Our suggestion is that Gendry and Arya leave a fortnight before you depart for King’s Landing. Get to Storm’s End and make your will known,” he said to Gendry. “I suggest that what’s left of Yara’s fleet in White Harbor be destroyed. That way, word can get to King’s Landing that _Euron_ destroyed what remained of the other fleet. And then Yara and Theon take what remains of Euron’s fleet and sail for King’s Landing, but don’t come in until you see the dragons overhead. You,” he said gesturing to Jon and Daenerys, “take the Unsullied, the Dothraki, whatever of the Northron forces we can convince to join us go along the King’s Road. Make a show of force. Don’t allow our men to attack or raid villages. Greet your people. Be on guard, but greet them.”

 

Jon looked over at Davos who nodded. He heaved a sigh. “This plan doesn’t leave this room. At least not all of it. We’ll have to tell the Northron Lords and Ladies of our plan to go South and that we would like their aid. However, we don’t tell them about Arya and Gendry. And we certainly don’t tell them about Jaime.”

 

“Do you really think that the Northron Lords will oppose?” Tyrion questioned. “You and the queen went into battle against the dead, nearly gave your own lives to save theirs. Are they such fools that they wouldn’t repay that with loyalty?”

 

Sansa spoke. “It’s not that simple. While Jon is from the North, now that his true parentage has been revealed, and he’s not the son of Ned Stark, it does call into question whether they would still follow him. Though they made him King in the North, that was before he went South, before he bent the knee to Daenerys, and before the revelation. We’d need to call a council of just them. All the Starks standing with Jon. And I would recommend that you not attend the meeting, your grace,” she said to Daenerys.

 

“And if they decide not to follow Jon? To take back their loyalty to Jon?”

 

Arya spoke. “They would then give it to Bran or Sansa.”

 

Sansa sighed. “Bran. He’s the only living male heir to Ned Stark.”

 

Jon looked at his brother and frowned. “Would you take it? Are you still against being Lord?”

 

Bran tilted his head as he looked at Sansa. “Would you hate me?”

 

Sansa furrowed her brow and shook her head. “Never. You’re my brother.”

 

Bran stared at her for a long moment. “Not now. But...maybe someday. I’m not...fully who I need to be. There’s something missing.”

 

“What?” Arya asked.

 

He looked down at his hands and sighed. “A loose end.” His eyes turned back to those assembled. “You do have a few allies in King’s Landing. The apothecaries that have been making Wildfire want it gone. They know if she decides to destroy the city, their families die as well. If you can get to them, they might be able to help you.”

 

“Nothing happens in that city without Cersei knowing about it,” Jaime reminded.

 

“So, should we give it up?”

 

He shook his head and frowned at the tone Daenerys used. She was growing frustrated with the lack of an answer. Jon understood her frustration, he felt it, too. He didn’t know what sort of solution they would come to other than sending Jaime in to dispatch her and hope it was enough to keep all of the people from dying. "We'll resume this discussion in a few days. Perhaps some sort of solution will have come to us by then."

 

*~*

 

“You’re getting married tomorrow,” Davos asserted to which Jon nodded. “Any nerves?”

 

“Only that my wedding will be ruined by the insane woman sitting on the Iron Throne. That she might succeed in her plan to kill us all while we’re celebrating,” he said and then sighed. “That Daenerys will die.”

 

“I was actually talking about being married, but yes those are reasons to be nervous.”

 

Jon smiled briefly. “Not nervous about marrying her. I get nervous thinking about being a king. About people’s lives being in my hands. I don’t worry so much about their lives being in her hands. She seems more certain about it than I ever could hope to be.”

 

Davos stared at the dragon statuette on the table and lifted it to hold in his hand. “People have selected you to lead them twice. The Night’s Watch picked you. The Northron Lords picked you. People believe in you even when you don’t believe in yourself.”

 

“Why? Who am I?”

 

Davos shrugged. “You are who you’re supposed to be, I suppose. The tale of your life is a remarkable one. I wouldn’t believe most of it if I hadn’t seen parts of it happen. Selected Lord Commander. Saved the Wildlings and let them beyond the wall, never done before. Died and rose from the dead. First time I’d heard of that. Retook Winterfell, had the North swear allegiance to you, stood in front of the Dragon Queen and lived to tell the tale. Rode a fucking dragon. Fought and defeated the dead,” he sighed. “Jon, my boy, if you weren’t selected for greatness, to achieve the goal of taking the Iron Throne, wouldn’t all of that seem like it was for nothing.”

 

Jon sat beside him and frowned. “Parts of it still don’t feel real.”

 

“Then focus on the parts that do. I spoke with Tyrion and I believe he will make this suggestion to your future queen, but we thought that maybe you two, considering it is the night before your wedding, that you might spend it apart. For...propriety’s sake.”

 

He looked over at Davos and shook his head. “After the assassination attempt, you’re lucky I’m away from her now.”

 

“Some tradition needs to be maintained.”

 

“Not that one,” he asserted. “Besides, she’s been in my room since the end of the battle. Why does it matter now?”

 

Davos shrugged. “I happen to agree with you. However, Tyrion believes that a slight concession should be made to tradition in that you two don’t see one another until you’re in the Godswood to be married.”

 

Jon slouched in his chair and frowned. “No.”

 

“Suit yourself.” Davos folded his arms over his chest. “When do you think she became pregnant?”

 

Jon looked at him from the corner of his eyes. “What?”

 

“She’s clearly pregnant. Do you think that happened on the boat or after?”

 

Jon straightened in his chair and wondered how Davos had sussed it out. “Not sure. How did you know?”

 

He smiled. “She’s been avoiding foods with strong aromas, you’re constantly staring at her belly, she has her hands on it quite often, and I overheard your sister Arya tell Sansa.”

 

Jon chuckled. “Yes, she’s pregnant. No, I’m not sure for how long. We didn’t even realize until Bran mentioned it.”  

 

“So, I suppose Tyrion’s worries about the line of succession can be put to rest.”

 

“If it keeps him occupied, let him worry. We haven’t told anyone. Only my family and Missandei. She’s terrified she’ll lose the baby. She believed for a long time she wasn’t able to have children.”

 

“Nice of you to prove her wrong.”

 

Jon smirked. “It was not intentional.”

 

“Well, intentional or not, it’s a good thing.”

 

“Right. We’re on the brink of war, again, my family is, once more, going to be separated, and my countrymen no longer have loyalty to me.”

 

“They chose you because you led them to victory. You proved to be an honorable man. The North, from what I’ve seen, respects that sort of thing.”

 

“They also hate Targaryens.”

 

“Yes, but you’re Stark and Targaryen. You know the North and its people. You’ll know how to sway them.”

 

“Your confidence in me means a great deal.”

 

“I lost my son at Blackwater. Young Shireen was taken from this world too soon. It’s nice to have someone to look after.”

 

Jon gave a smile to the older man and then looked at the ground. “I wonder often if my father would have been proud of me.”

 

“Ned Stark or Rhaegar Targaryen?” Jon gave him a scathing look to which Davos chuckled. “It was a joke. Not a good one.” He stood and put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “If they aren’t, they’re damn fools. I’m proud of you,” Davos said. Jon smiled, feeling something close to relief. Davos was one of his most trusted advisors, but also a much-needed father figure.

 

“Thank you, Davos.”

 

He nodded. “Get some sleep, lad,” he said before he left the room and Jon soon followed him out the door and to his own chamber. Daenerys was seated on the rug in front of the fire, Ghost was resting beside her as she stroked her hand through his fur and her other hand resting on her belly. Ghost looked up as he entered and Jon smiled at the picture the presented. He knew if Drogon and Rhaegal could fit they would have been curled up beside her as well. He removed his boots and joined her, sitting behind her and wrapping his arms around her middle, his hands splayed over her belly and his head resting on her shoulder.

 

“I nearly had Ghost eat Tyrion.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “Oh? Why?” He had a good idea as to why.

 

“He suggested you and I sleep apart for the night. I’m not letting you spend a night from me ever if I can avoid it,” she said as she placed a kiss on his cheek.

 

He smiled and smoothed his hand over her robe which was made of the softest silk he’d ever touched. “I agree. I told Davos the same thing.”

 

“You’re mine, Jon Snow. I’m yours.”

 

He closed his eyes for a moment, his head resting against hers, content.

 

*~*

 

Jon paced the room as Arya and Gendry watched him. Arya had her feet tucked beneath her, though she was wearing the dress Sansa had made for her. Gendry sat in a chair by the fire and twirled his hammer in his hands. “This is ridiculous.”

 

“Yes, you’ve been saying that the entire the day,” Arya said with a huff. “ _We_ had no idea we were going to be put on guard duty to make sure you stay away from your future wife.”

 

He folded his arms over his chest. “I see. You’re free to leave.”

 

Gendry snorted then turned his chair to face them. Arya only smiled and shook her head. “Nice try.”

 

“How much longer?”

 

“Until Sansa comes to get you. The sun has only just set,” Gendry answered, pointing to the windows.

 

“Who is speaking for Daenerys?” Jon questioned.

 

“Tyrion, I believe. And Davos will be doing the parts that Father should have done,” she said sadly.

 

Gendry put a comforting hand on her shoulder and she leaned her head against it for a moment. Jon was about say something to comfort her when Sansa arrived, a smile on her face. “I’m surprised you’re not pacing the room like Ghost.”

 

“You only missed it by a few moments,” Gendry confirmed as he stood.

 

“The sun is down. Daenerys is ready and _please_ do not rip her dress.”

 

“Why would I rip her dress?” Jon frowned

 

Sansa smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Arya and Gendry, you’ll follow me. Jon, you’ll follow them.” She stopped and turned to look at Jon again. “Where is your crown?”

 

Jon looked at the box on the table and Sansa made a face as she moved over to the box and lifted the crown then placed it atop his head, making sure it would stay. “I don’t like wearing it.”

 

Sansa looked him in the eye. “I suggest you get over that, _your grace_.”

 

He made a face at her and she led the way out of the room and Jon followed, finding that none of them were walking fast enough. He did see Arya reach out and take Gendry’s hand and the other man smiled down at her. His little sister was in love. He never thought there could be anyone who would deserve her. He felt as if Gendry might just be the man.

 

Their walk to the Godswood was slow. When they finally came before the heart tree, several people were already there with torches lining the path. Jaime, Brienne, Podrick, Tormund, Sandor, Tales, a few of the Dothraki, Lady Mormont, Lord Glover, Theon, and Yara. Davos was standing in front of the heart tree and gave Jon a smile. Sansa, Arya, and Gendry took their places and stood beside Bran and Jon.

 

Jon only waited for a moment before he saw some of the others smile. He turned to see her, illuminated by the light of the torches, her dress shimmering as she moved. The dress had a bit of Northron influences in the long sleeves and the fur around her shoulders, but there was something foreign and unique about the dress. It exposed just enough of her soft breasts that his mouth watered to think of kissing them. The bodice fit her small waist, but only he would know that it concealed their child. The skirts drifted down to her feet and she almost looked as if she was gliding over the snow. Her silver hair was hanging around her shoulders, her crown affixed to the top of her head. She looked every inch the queenly bride. But what was more beautiful was the smile on her face and the wink she sent his way.

 

Tyrion and Daenerys stopped in front of Davos who gave them both a smile. However, Jon couldn’t stop looking at her to actually pay attention.

 

Davos cleared his throat and Tyrion nudged Jon with his elbow and he turned his attention back to Davos. “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?”

 

Tyrion spoke then. “Daenerys, of House Targaryen, a woman grown, trueborn and nobel. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

 

Jon stepped forward. “Jon, of House Stark and Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms.” He and Daenerys had spoken about how he would claim her. Daenerys conceded on the name, allowing him to claim her as Jon from House Stark and Targaryen, but she insisted he claims to be the heir to the Iron Throne and Seven Kingdoms. “Who gives her?”

 

Tyrion smiled at Jon. “Tyrion, of House Lannister. Hand to the Queen.”

 

Davos asked. “Queen Daenerys, can you take this man?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part is Daenerys. I hope to have a quicker turn around for the next chapter than this one. Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> An explanation for the wedding ceremony - Jon took his vows as part of the Old Gods ceremony. Daenerys has no actual religion she's affiliated with. Since the rite and how it's performed might mean something to him, she agreed to the older ceremony. I got this and how it happens from the scene of Sansa's marriage to Ramsay (gross as that is). So, if there are going to be complaints about how it was handled...well, I can't help you. My story.


	50. Daenerys IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continuation of the wedding from Daenerys's POV and then the wedding night. Warning---this is all kinds of smutty!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I spent almost two days working on this chapter and I'm still unsure about one part, but I think it's a necessity to show how much she loves and trusts Jon.
> 
> This chapter, though, is brought to you by the following songs:  
> Eyes on Fire - Blue Foundation  
> Crush - Dave Matthews  
> Saturn - Sleeping At Last

 

 

**DAENERYS**

 

The Godswood was beautiful as she felt Missandei flair out the back of her dress as she walked along the lighted path to her future husband. She felt butterflies in her stomach and she didn’t understand why. She had never been more certain about anything than she had about marrying her love. It was better than a politically strategic match. It was for love and for all the right reasons. Selfish ones on her part, but she decided she had the right to be selfish in this instance.

 

When the rest the people came into view, her eyes immediately found his and she smiled. She knew he hadn’t realized that his mouth had opened a bit as he took her in wearing the magnificent dress that Sansa had made. Her crown was perfectly balanced on her head as her hair hung loosely down her back save for three braids that connected just beneath the crown. Tyrion and Davos had designed beautiful pieces. She loved the contrast of the two crowns, hers thinner but showing off the dragons that meant so much to her. The wolf and dragon mixed into his. As they stepped forward, she felt calm and happy. It was only with Jon that she felt either of those things.

 

Davos cleared his throat and she smiled as her husband to be seemed completely enthralled with her and not paying attention to what was happening.  With a nudge, Jon turned his attention back to Davos and Daenerys had to fight back a laugh. “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?”

 

Tyrion spoke for her. There was no one else to consider. He was not only her hand but one of her best friends. As Missandei didn’t understand the concept of marriage or why it was necessary, and some of the Northron lords and ladies being in attendance, Daenerys had settled on Tyrion. After all, it was he who had first commented that Jon Snow was in love with her. Looking at him now, she wondered how she ever doubted it. He couldn’t hide how he felt about something as it shown so clearly in his eyes. “Daenerys, of House Targaryen, a woman grown, trueborn and nobel. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods. Who comes to claim her?”

 

Jon stepped forward. “Jon, of House Stark and Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne and the Seven Kingdoms.” Daenerys withheld the need to roll her eyes at her stubborn wolf. It had taken quite a bit of talking to decide on what he would be called as he detested the name Aegon Targaryen, feeling it was a bit much for him, but he understood that it was a necessity for when he took the throne. He had insisted, though, that he would marry her as Jon. She didn’t mind that. She was concerned, however, that he might be ashamed to be a Targaryen, but he assured her that he could never be ashamed of being something that made him closer to her. When they had finally settled on the name, she remembered how he had traced his fingers over her arm and actually made her shiver.  “Who gives her?”

 

Tyrion smiled at Jon. “Tyrion, of House Lannister. Hand to the Queen.”

 

Davos asked. “Queen Daenerys, can you take this man?”

 

She grinned. “I take this man,” she said firmly. His answering smile was enough to buoy that feeling. Jon moved to stand beside her and took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. His eyes never left hers as she leaned up on her toes and he kissed her softly on the lips. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard Tyrion sigh in relief.

 

*~*

 

Several hours later, they were seated in the hall, her fingers entwined with Jon’s as the small orchestra Sansa had organized played on the opposite end. Everyone remained around the table eating, laughing, and drinking. She knew this might be one of the last times they had the opportunity to do such a thing. Jon leaned over to whisper, making sure to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. “Sansa asked me not to rip your dress but I’m not making any promises.”

 

She squeezed his hand with hers and turned to whisper in his. “I would much rather you undo the laces slow, the way I like. The way that makes me burn for you. That makes it so easy for you to slide inside me.”

 

She smiled triumphantly as she heard what resembled a growl more than a moan emit from her husband’s throat. Jon Snow was her husband. Her beautiful, honorable, loving Jon Snow was now hers forever. It made her feel protective and protected all at the same time.

 

He turned his face towards hers and she placed a kiss upon his lips, chaste though it was, her lips burned from it. She wanted him to claim her tonight. They’d been sharing the same bed for a while now, but since the war, they’d both hesitated to actually make love. She hadn’t as she was afraid she would hurt him considering his injury. That didn’t mean they hadn’t enjoyed one another, she was a very satisfied woman, but she wanted him desperately and she would not allow their wedding night to pass without having him inside her again.

 

Daenerys looked around the table at their guests. Tyrion, Podrick, and Tormund were all drunk, and Brienne seemed amused and annoyed all at once. She could vaguely make out Tyrion telling a story about a jackass, honeycomb and a brothel. But she stopped listening before it went down a dark path. Lyanna Mormont and one of her advisors sat with Lord Glover and Davos. The little bear was a fierce girl, she couldn’t wait to see what she managed to do as a full-grown woman. She would never be a woman to allow a man to fully take charge.

 

Gendry had his arm around Arya’s shoulders as the younger girl was whispering something in his ear that had him smiling widely. His response into her ear caused Arya to lick her lips and sip at her wine. Sam and Gilly were seated with Theon, Yara, and Varys. Bran, Sansa, and Jaime were discussing something amongst the three of them. She didn’t know if anything had changed between Jon’s sister and the older man, but she assumed it had as her blue eyes kept drifting to him and his to hers. They were trying to hide it, she could gather that much, but to anyone who was actually looking, they failed miserably.

 

And then there was her husband who had joined Davos in his conversation with Lyanna and Glover. They had been the two that Jon had insisted be invited to the wedding. Glover, as he had fought bravely through the battle and he had a lot of men still living that he could send to aid them when they rode South. She knew from Sansa that Glover was sometimes wavering in his loyalty, but he’d been tricked by Littlefinger, as many others had also been. Lady Lyanna was loyal to Jon and the Starks. She hadn’t wanted him to go South, but whenever there was an issue that needed Northron support, she was the first to lend her assistance and her people. Again, Daenerys was anxious to see how fierce a lady she would become.

 

Jon was listening intently to the older Lord as he told a story of fighting alongside Ned Start when they were younger. She knew he still felt pulled in two by the revelation of his parentage, but he was getting better about not flinching every time it was discussed. She realized she must have looked like a lovesick girl, staring at him as she was. But she didn’t actually care. This was her wedding and to a man she loved. She would stare at him day and night and then some if she wanted. She waited until he stopped speaking before she leaned over. “Shall we retire?” She whispered into his ear and the look on his face told her all she needed to know. She would be shocked if they actually made it to their room with the look he was giving her.

 

However, Tormund spoke to Jon and it halted him. “Don’t forget, Jon Snow. Baby seals,” the ginger Wildling announced and she looked to Jon who blushed as he glared at the man. Tormund, however, laughed and Podrick and Tyrion followed. Jon stood and held his hand out to Daenerys. She didn’t care what they said, none of it mattered but how much she wanted him.

 

“Bed her well, boy!” Tormund shouted and several of the others lifted their cups in salute.

 

*~*

 

Jon closed the door behind them and she moved into his arms immediately as his lips claimed hers, his kiss dominating her. She knew she had to get the dress off before he did rip it and it was too beautiful to become a pile of fabric on the floor. Daenerys pushed him against the door as she untied her cloak and tossed it to a nearby chair. She broke the kiss and put her back to him and swept her hair to the side. Their crowns had been removed as they had begun to eat and were hidden away again.

 

“Unlace me,” she muttered, slipping her hands between them to untie his sword belt and it fell to the floor. He kissed over her throat as his fingers worked to undo the laces, one slow pull at a time, his thumb trailing over her spine. Jon finally got the dress undone enough for her to be able to push it off her body. She kicked off her shoes near the chair as she draped the dress over it as well. She turned in his arms and helped him remove his cloak follow by jerkin and tunic. He smelled divine, like leather, snow, and something woodsy. It was unmistakably him and she relished in it.

 

Daenerys tugged on the tie in his hair, unleashing his curls and her fingers immediately began running through them, holding his mouth to hers as they kissed. She could taste wine on his lips, but she hoped to taste herself soon. Just the thought had her hands moving to the laces of his leathers and he quickly discarded his boots. He bent down, smoothed his hands down the back of her thighs and lifted her in the air, her body wrapped around his. She felt his cock against her and she moaned into his mouth.

 

He placed her on the bed and she held him to her, wanting to feel the full length of him against her. She had one arm wrapped around his neck as her other hand slipped between them and stroked his cock. He moaned this time and it was music to her ears. “Inside me, Jon Snow.”

 

She lifted her hips and guided him to her slick cunt. They both gasped as he filled her one leg around his hips the other helping her gain leverage to thrust up and meet him. He kissed his way down her throat, using his teeth to scrape against her pulse. She scratched her fingers through his hair, his lips, teeth, and tongue teasing against her flesh. Daenerys thrilled at his touch when his lips closed over her nipple and then the slight sting of his teeth followed by his tongue to soothe. They ached beneath his touch, but she refused to stop him. She couldn’t think to do anything other than moan his name when she felt his fingers against her clit.

 

“So close,” he muttered against her skin. Her fingers worked with his on the swollen nub and soon she was flying, her body squeezing around his. She felt him shudder as he released inside of her. “Dany,” he grunted, pumping his hips a few more times before he collapsed on top of her, his elbows to each side of her head. She felt his breath against her neck, everything feeling right in her world for a brief moment. Her hands roamed his back and she pressed kisses against his neck and ear.

 

When he lifted his head, she couldn’t help but grin at him. “I love you. More than I think I should,” she said softly. “You’ve made it impossible to feel anything else. My king. My husband...”

 

“Aye, and you’re my queen. _My_ wife.” The scratch at the door caused them both to look over and Jon groaned. “I’m not sure I remember how to walk.”

 

She rolled her eyes and playfully pushed him to his back as she stood and walked to the door to let Ghost into the room where he flopped in front of the fire. Daenerys moved to climb back on the bed with Jon and he pulled her into his arms on top of him. “I’m happy you asked me to marry you.”

 

He brushed her hair back and touched her cheek softly. “Am I worthy of you?”

 

She grinned down at him and nodded. “No one else could be. Am I worthy of you?”

 

“Only you, my love.”

 

She rested her head on his shoulder and smiled against his skin. “You know this is simply a reprieve, don’t you? I plan to have you in a variety of ways before and after the sunrises.”

 

He chuckled. “Good. That is how I hoped the evening would go.”

 

She traced her fingers down his abdomen, following the lines to the trail of hair that followed the V of muscle that led to his cock which had begun to stir under her fingers. She kissed his throat and his arms wrapped around her. He rolled to his side, facing her. His love shone through his eyes. As he kissed her, she felt that they had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, his lips moving against hers. It reminded her of their first time, how they had spent time exploring one another, tasting, touching, becoming familiar with one another. It had worried her at the time to become so invested in someone. But she had fallen before she had even realized there was the possibility to fall.

 

His fingers moved through her hair and grasped the end of her braid and removed the tie holding it in place. He broke the kiss and worked the braids out of her hair. She rolled him onto his back while her lips traced over the cord of muscle in his neck. She moved lower, flicking her tongue out over his nipple and he cupped her cheek as he leaned back against the pillow to watch her. She loved feeling his eyes on her. It made her skin sizzle and her heart race. She didn’t think she would ever be capable of such a feeling, that it was only for storybooks. But now, as she traced the lines of his abdomen with her mouth, tongue, and occasionally teeth, she made sure to keep her eyes on his.

 

Her hands slid over his thighs and he moaned. His cock was standing before her and she licked her lips as he tucked an arm beneath his head and she didn’t think she could want him more. She slowly stroked over his length and she received another moan. Her tongue flicked out over the tip, then traced down over the vein on the underside of his cock and back in a slow slide. She didn’t take him into her mouth, though. She crawled over him, straddling his hips as her lips found his. His hands were everywhere it seemed, cupping her breasts, gripping her hips, between her folds, cupping her face.

 

Daenerys stroked him through her folds, and moaned as she leaned back and seated him inside her. She rolled her hips, feeling him move inside her. She claimed her king with slow, shallow thrusts, his hands at her hips and breasts. It was perfect. Everything about this was perfect.

 

*~*

 

Daenerys rested her head against his shoulder as she entwined her fingers with his. “What did Tormund mean about baby seals?”

 

He exhaled a laugh and kissed the top of her head. “You’d rather not know.”

 

She turned to face him, a playful smile on her face. “Well, now I _must_ know.”

 

Jon smirked and shook his head. “When I was with the Wildlings beyond the Wall, Tormund started giving me advice on how to make love to a woman. Said something about how most men fuck like dogs without giving women time. _Your cock shouldn’t go near her until she’s as slick as a baby seal._ ”

 

She tilted her head at him. “Is that who I owe my thanks to for your considerable efforts to make sure I’m ready for you. And that you don’t _fuck like a dog_?”

 

He sat up and smiled. “Say it again.”

 

“Say what?”

 

“You know what,” he whispered.

 

She leaned forward and licked his lips as he tugged her leg over his; she was once more straddling him. “Why?”

 

“I like the way you say it,” he said as he moved to nibble along her collarbone.

 

She smiled and deliberately said the wrong word. “Dog.”

 

He laughed against her and soon she was laughing as he began tickling her sides.

 

*~*

 

“Why do I need training with a sword?” She asked as he’d brought it up. He had climbed from the bed to retrieve Longclaw. The great sword now leaned against the bedside table.

 

“I simply think it’s a necessary precaution. Sansa is learning. You should, too.”

 

He returned to the place beside her and placed a kiss on her bare hip and then over her stomach, his fingers moving softly over the skin. “Only if you teach me.”

 

“Aye, I’ll teach you,” he said as he placed several more kisses along her belly.

 

*~*

 

She gasped as she felt the most delicious sensation between her thighs. Her eyes felt heavy and the dream felt so real. And then there were fingers tickling along the back of her knee and along the inside of her thigh. She felt his tongue flicker over her clit and she looked down, noticing the large lump beneath the furs and smiled. His hands moved up along her body and cupped her breasts in his hands. She threw back the furs, finding Jon’s unruly black curls as his mouth and tongue went about bringing her closer and closer to edge.

 

“Jon,” she moaned his name loud, drawing it out, almost a whine for more. But just as she crested towards the peak, he would abandon her clit and move to kiss her thighs or lap at her entrance. He was keeping her on the brink but not letting her fall off the edge. Her crafty husband was driving her mad. She gripped his hair, trying to steer him back where she wanted his mouth, but he didn’t comply. Instead, he released her breasts to grab both of her hands and pin them to the bed beside her hips. His eyes met hers and she was nearly undone as he licked from the bottom of her entrance to her clit. When he sucked it into his mouth and stroked his tongue over it, she was lost. She trembled beneath him and knew that she would carry that image in her head for the rest of her life.

 

He slid up along her body, nuzzling against her belly for a moment. He placed several kisses there and he continued on up her body, stopping to lap at her breast. It was too much, too sensitive to him and she pushed him away lightly. “Too much,” she whispered.

 

He kissed her then and she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He fit perfectly in her arms. They fit perfectly with one another and the thought brought tears to her eyes. Jon suddenly stopped kissing her and looked down at her in horror and removed himself from her arms, sitting up beside her. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

 

She shook her head, a smile on her face. She moved into his arms, straddling his waist. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”

 

He brushed away the tears as they rolled down her cheeks. “You aren’t someone who cries, Daenerys,” he whispered.

 

She leaned her forehead against his and her arms went around his neck. “I was simply thinking of how wonderful we fit,” she whispered back. He still looked uncertain, but she took each of his hands and put them on her arse. “I assure you that I didn’t mean for you to stop.”

 

Her lips met his, and though he looked unconvinced, he pulled her legs around him. She swept her tongue against his, tasting herself in his mouth. She’d convince him.

 

*~*

 

Jon had let Ghost out of the room and called for food to be brought to them. The sun had risen and Ghost wanted out to do whatever it was that he did when released. Jon donned his leathers as he moved around the room, stoked the fire back to life and lit a few candles that had gone out as they’d slept. She was trying not to stare, but she had moved to lay on her side, one of the furs wrapped around her, admiring her delectable husband. She wasn’t actually cold, but it smelled of him and if she was going to allow him to move around the room, she could at least have his scent wafting around her.

 

He opened the door when the knock sounded, took the tray from them, closed and latched the door behind him. Instead of placing it on the table, he brought it to the bed and placed it between them. There was no meat on the tray, and she was thankful for that. But there was bread, fruits, and tea. He poured her a cup and handed it over. She sat up and had to drop the fur from her shoulders as she took it. She couldn’t repress the smile at the dark look in his eyes.

 

He then spread jam over a piece of bread and held it out for her to take. She accepted it from him and took a bite. “Are you going to sit there and leer at me while I eat?” she questioned.

 

He smiled. “That is exactly my plan,” he said as he took his own bite. She smiled and leaned forward to brush away crumbs that remained in his beard. “Seems only fair since you didn’t take your eyes off me while I was walking around the room.”

 

She shrugged. “Again, my queenly prerogative.” She heaved a sigh. “I think we should make an agreement, now. We keep politics and talk of war out of this room until tomorrow.”

 

He nodded. “I agree. We’re both happy. Why ruin that?”

 

She took another bite. “Part of me wishes we were back at Dragonstone.”

 

“You don’t like Winterfell?” he questioned.

 

She sighed. “It’s not that. There are just places there that I wish I could have had you,” she smiled before she took another bite of the bread.

 

His eyes were fixated on her mouth and he grinned. “The cave,” he said as he held out a berry for her and instead of taking it from him with her fingers, she leaned forward and took it into her mouth. “Woman, I’m trying to let you eat,” he grumbled as she sucked his finger into her mouth.

 

She released him and smiled. “I am eating, Jon. Rather enjoying my meal,” she whispered.

 

He smirked but turned back to their conversation, “Where for you?”

 

She heaved a sigh. “The war table. My throne,” she said with a grin. “The hill where you first touched Drogon.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “I’ve been wondering something: what did you think when you saw that? I know I was awed that he let me touch him. But what did you think?”

 

She put the rest of her bread on the tray and licked the jam from her finger. “I thought ‘Who is this man?’ No one had ever dared to try to touch them. No one had ever not been terrified of getting too close, except Tyrion, once, when he was drunk, I hear. But he let you touch him and you wanted to, and I...was stunned. And extremely aroused.”

 

He scoffed. “Why?”

 

“First, my dear husband, you are a very attractive man. I find it endearing that you hate to hear that. But it’s a fact. Second, you stood on that ridge, in all your Northron glory, cloak billowing in the breeze, Drogon’s ferocity in your face, and you didn’t flinch. I’m attracted to confidence and you had it. Even when we were verbally sparring. You didn’t like what I had to say, I didn’t like what you had to say, but we respected one another, first. You kept surprising me.”

 

She sipped at her tea again as Jon spoke, “Davos knew I was attracted to you before that. Noticed me staring.”

 

Daenerys gave a bright smile. “I stared as well. Tyrion informed me that you were in love with me.”

 

“And how did that become a topic of conversation?”

 

She sighed. “I was lamenting brave men running off to do the stupidest, bravest thing they could. Drogo, Jorah, Daario...you. All men who loved me.”

 

He frowned. “And how many of them did you love?”

 

“None the same way,” she whispered. “Drogo took time, understanding, and a lot of effort. Jorah...betrayed me. But his persistence in getting back into my good graces actually saved my life. Daario...I don’t know that I actually loved him as much as he was there when I needed someone.”

 

He sighed. “Illustrious company.”

 

“And what of you, Jon Snow. Tell me of the Wildling girl who you loved.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “Ygritte. She was a difficult woman to love. Vicious, determined, an amazing warrior. And I fell in love with her quite by accident. We scaled the Wall together. She was the first girl...”

 

She smiled. “So, I have her to thank for your skill in my bed?”

 

He smirked. “I suppose. Her and Tormund,” he chuckled. And suddenly his good humor was gone. “But she was killed when the Wildlings attacked Castle Black and died in my arms.”

 

The smile left her face and she frowned. “Our stories have some remarkable similarities. And not in good ways. Betrayed, forgotten, and lost.”

 

He looked down at the tray and moved it to the table beside the bed. He climbed back onto the bed and faced her, his fingers traced over her bare calf up to her knee. “But we’re here. Married, in love,” he said as he traced the back of his fingers over her belly, “and there’s part of us growing inside you. Somehow, all of it seems worth it if this is what we get in the end.”

 

She smiled as she cupped his face and kissed him, tasting jam on his tongue. “I need these gone,” she said as she dropped her hand to the laces of his leathers and began untying them. He removed them quickly, tossing them to the floor then crawled on top of her nibbling along her jaw and neck. “Take me, husband,” she muttered then whimpered as he pulled away. He gripped her by the waist, angling her hips up toward his, slipping her thighs over his forearms and impaled her on his cock. She gasped, feeling open and exposed as he pumped into her hard, leaving only her shoulders and head on the bed.

 

She gripped his wrist, her other hand gripping the furs beneath them. Daenerys bit her lip, lost in the hungry look on his face. She was close, teetering on the edge when he withdrew from her and she groaned in frustration. “Jon,” she said through gritted teeth.

 

He rolled her to her stomach and she momentarily froze. She hadn’t let a man take her like this since Drogo and she felt a sense of panic until she felt his tongue moving along her folds. His tongue danced along her soaked cunt, causing her to shake under his skill. His fingers replaced his mouth and she closed her eyes, lost in the feel of him bringing her closer only to once again lament the loss of contact. His cock pushed into her and she flashed back to the first time she’d been taken; the memory all too clear and she nearly made him stop until she felt his arms around her to haul her back against him, his chest to her back.

 

She clung to his arms around her, her hips undulating against his. Jon’s lips found hers as one of his hands made its way to her folds and circled the nub. His thrusts were slow and torturous, his lips maddening against her throat. “Jon,” she writhed in his arms as her climax crashed over her like waves at the prodding of his fingers and the care in which he handled her. He loved her. She knew that. His feelings for her, his care for her, and the release she’d experienced had helped to bring her to the realization that she trusted him enough to give her something she had feared.

 

He bit her shoulder as he shuddered through his release and she groaned at the feel of his teeth in her skin.

 

He didn’t release his hold around her as they fell to the bed. She turned in his arms, a smile on his face and she kissed him. “I love you.”

 

He grumbled against her and fingered the bite mark he left on her shoulder. “I love you, too. Sorry about this, though. Did I hurt you?”

 

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to break, Jon. I like it when you let the wolf come out to play,” she playfully nibbled his bottom lip.

 

He chuckled. “Well, this wolf needs sleep.”

 

Daenerys lifted her head when she heard the familiar scratching at the door. “We need some way for him to get in and out of this room without either of us having to get up,” she said as she crawled from the bed to open the door and allow Ghost into the room.

 

Instead of his normal place beside the fire, he crawled onto the foot of the bed. “Speaking of wolf,” Jon mused and held open the furs for her to join him in the bed. “I can send him to the floor,” he offered.

 

She moved into Jon’s arms as Ghost shifted so they were allowed room on the bed. “Don’t. He keeps my feet warm,” she said as she settled her head against his shoulder.

 

“Whatever you wish, my queen.”

 

“Hush up, _my king_ , for I am exhausted and require sleep.”

 

He placed a kiss against her brow and she closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber, warm and satiated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you like it. Drop me a line to let me know.


	51. Gendry IX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry's reaction to Arya in a dress and airing out some concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even Arya has insecurities

  


**GENDRY**

 

“I hate to admit that I like you in a dress,” he whispered in her ear.

 

He could see her roll her eyes, but he sipped at the ale in front of him and felt his head spinning a bit. “You’ll like it more when I’m out of it,” she whispered back.

 

He chuckled as he put his goblet back on the table before whispering again. “As long as you let me crawl under it, first.”

 

Arya turned and grinned at him. She nodded her head a bit and they turned to hear Tormund shout, “Bed her well, boy!” before Jon and Daenerys left the room. The other side of the table was getting louder the drunker they got. He looked down at Arya, a grin on his face. “Do I bed you well?”

 

She laughed and put her hand over his goblet as he’d gone to take another drink. “Yes. I insist that you stop drinking so you can later.”

 

“How much later?” he questioned and nuzzled her ear. 

 

“Impatient?”

 

“I’ve been hard for you for hours now,” he breathed against her ear.

 

Sam and Gilly stood and left, baby Sam asleep in her arms. Sansa was left alone with Jaime and Bran, but even Bran called to be taken to his room. Theon and Yara were the next to leave. Gendry took notice that Sansa and Jaime didn’t seem to mind being alone. That was surprising considering she had routinely lamented to anyone who would listen how she hated the Lannisters and wanted him dead. Varys moved to the other end of the table and sat beside Brienne. Lady Mormont, her advisor, and Lord Glover also left.

 

“I think we should retire  _ m’lady _ .”

 

Her grey eyes met his and she stood, one last gulp of her wine, and she took his hand. He stood and looped her arm through his, Arya giving a nod to Sansa who was still speaking to Jaime. 

 

They made it halfway up the stairs before Gendry pushed her against the wall and kissed her. He was slightly drunk and the feel of the dress beneath his fingers as he mapped out the curves of her body had him groaning against her lips. She pushed him back to the other wall, his head thudding off the stone. “Fuck,” he grunted but quickly forgot the pain as her mouth found his again, her tongue sliding between his lips dueling with his. She pushed away from him again and turned to run up the stairs and Gendry gave chase, dashing past the wildlings that were meant to guard the upper chambers. 

 

He caught her at the door to their room, his arms wrapping around her from behind as she kicked open the door. He lifted her from the ground and carried her inside and kicked the door shut behind him. He put her on her feet and turned her in his arms, his lips finding hers. He backed her to the nearest surface which happened to be the table they often broke their fast. He started lifting her skirts while her fingers worked to unlace his jerkin. When it was hanging open he threw it to the floor, tugged his tunic over his head, and then sank to his knees in front of her, pulling her to the edge of the table. He spread her legs as he leaned forward and lapped at her cunt. Her hands moving through his hair caused him to pull away, not allowing her to dictate where his mouth went and when. He caught both of her hands and entwined his fingers with hers, loving the taste of her on his tongue. 

 

She was moaning his name as she fell back on the table. When she climaxed against his tongue, he took a moment to take in the sight. He couldn’t see her face over her bunched skirt but what he could see caused his already hard cock to twitch. Her legs were splayed wide, one over his shoulder. She still had her boots on her feet and the layers of her skirts were laying around her waist. Her cunt was pink and wet and he couldn’t help but have another taste. 

 

“Gendry,” she groaned and he felt the muscle of her thigh tighten against his face. “I want you inside me.”

 

He stood and she helped him with his laces. “Much as I like this dress, I want it off,” he muttered even as he cupped her breasts through the fabric. She removed her hands from him and directed them to the seam along her spine. 

 

“Then help me get out of it,” she muttered against his ear. He started unlacing it, but as she pushed his leathers over his hips he grew impatient and ripped it apart, Arya moaning as he bared her breast to his eager mouth. She pulled her arms from the sleeves, her legs wrapped around his waist and held him tight to her. He slid inside her in one hard thrust.

 

He was already close, the taste of her skin salty against his tongue causing his already drunk brain to spin. He would never grow tired of it. Whatever usual finesse he had was gone due to the amount he’d had to drink, but Arya didn’t complain. He was rewarded by her walls clamping around him as another climax rushed through her which sent him into his own. He rested his head against her breast, panting her name. He didn’t know how he was going to manage them to the bed and so he didn’t try. He grabbed one of the chairs for the table and collected her in his arms and sat in the chair. Her legs dangled in the air as he held her close. “There’s a lot to this dress,” he muttered and tried to help her pull it over her head, but she only ended up more tangled in it. His frustration mounted before he continued ripping it along the back and threw it to the floor.

 

She stared at him, a smile on her face. “I might have to wear dresses more often if you’ll simply rip them off me.”

 

He shrugged. “It was in my way,” he said as he smoothed his hands over her thighs. 

 

“I’m not complaining,” she said against his lips. “I like it, in fact. Sansa, however, might kill you.”

 

“I’m used to Stark women screaming at me.” He buried his face in her neck and wrapped his arms around her, holding her to him. “Let’s stay like this forever.”

 

She rested her head atop his. “It’s a nice dream.”

 

“Most of my dreams involve you,” he muttered.

 

“Is that why you wake up hard?” She questioned.

 

He shook his head. “Not always. Usually, you’ve spent the better part of the night rubbing against me. That’s why I wake up hard.”

 

She sighed. “I could stay like this. Maybe without my boots, though.”

 

“I’d take them off but I’m not fucking moving.”

 

She kissed the top of his head. “Good. I don’t want you to.”

 

They were silent and he listened to her heartbeat, lulling him into a doze. She stirred and started to move off him, but he held her close, squeezing her against him. “Don’t move,” he muttered.

 

“I have to,” she said as she moved off him and into the privy. He took that opportunity to remove his boots and leathers. He made his way to the bed as the door opened and she reentered. She crawled onto the bed beside him, tugged off her boots, and rested her back to his chest. She gathered his arms around her and he hugged her close. “I love you, Gendry.”

 

“Love you too,  _ m’lady _ .”

 

*~* 

 

He felt a finger poke him in the ribs and he lifted his head to look around, noticing that the sun wasn’t yet up. Arya sat beside him on the bed, one of her legs pulled to her chest, her head resting on her knee. He rubbed a hand over his face and groaned. “Why are you awake?”

 

“I can’t sleep.”

 

“So you woke me up?”

 

“I want to talk.”

 

He shifted in the bed and sat up to look at her. Her eyes, however, were focused on the furs in front of them. “I’m going to warn you...I may still be a little drunk.”

 

She smiled but it left her face quickly. “I’m concerned about something.”

 

He shook his head a bit, trying to clear it of the cobwebs so he could focus on her. “What?”

 

“You’re rather overwhelming reaction to me in a dress.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t understand. You seemed to like it earlier.”

 

She sighed. “I know.” He could see the confusion and concern on her face. He wasn’t used to seeing her so uncertain. “I’m probably never going to be the type of lady that wears pretty dresses or has perfect manners...”

 

“Still don’t understand.”

 

She groaned in frustration. “Do you like me better in dresses?”

 

He rubbed the back of his head and winced at the sore spot from where his head had slammed against the wall. “Arya, I like you better out of clothes.”

 

“Be serious.”

  
“I’m being completely serious. I don’t care what you wear. I never have.”

 

“But...”

 

“But what?”

 

“I’ve just been thinking that maybe you would want one of those perfumed ladies who wear dresses and not me, someone who wears leathers and wields a sword.”

 

He shook his head and then leaned in to kiss her on the shoulder. “I want you. In a dress. In a tunic. Preferably naked at all times,” he said with a smile and she rolled her eyes. “It’s always been you, Arya. Not what you wear or what you do. It’s you I love. The rest is just stuff I have to get around to have you.” He frowned and pulled her into his arms. “What’s really bothering you?”

 

She leaned her head back against his shoulder and tugged his arms around her fully. She had her head lowered and he hated to see her so uncertain. “I’m afraid our entire relationship is going to change. We’ll go South and we’ll both be stuck.”

 

“Is that how you feel? Stuck with me?” he tried to hide the hurt he felt, but couldn’t disguise it.

 

“No! I want to be with you. That’s just it, Gendry.” She turned to face him. “I thought it would be us living here for the rest of our lives and whether or not we decided to get married and have children would be our choice. But now, with us going to Storm’s End...I’m afraid that expectation will force the both of us into a situation that years from now we’ll regret.”

 

He frowned. “I thought we were both in agreement that we were going to do this together. What’s changed?”

 

She lowered her head. “Nothing. I’m just...afraid of the  _ idea _ of everything changing.”

 

He brushed her hair back from her face. “Arya, I don’t care about the title.” he shook his head. “I mean...part of me does. I want to be a person who can make other people’s lives better so they don’t suffer like I did growing up. But I never contemplated doing that without you. When I see the future it’s always with you. You’re supposed to be the one who’s sure of everything. It worries me that I’m having to reassure you.”

 

She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips. “The future scares me. I have complete certainty that we’ll win in King’s Landing and Storm’s End. But...after that, I’m nervous.”

 

He nodded. “So am I. But never about us. Since we found one another again I’ve never thought about a future without you in it.” He then smiled. “I have a solution.” She nodded for him to continue. “You continue to be certain about our march south and our eventual success. I’ll continue to be certain about us. And when either of us feels ourselves wavering, we turn to each other.”

 

She shook her head and chuckled. “Are you sure you’re still drunk?”

 

He heaved a sigh. “I think I sobered up rather quickly when I thought you felt stuck with me and it was a punishment.”

 

Her kiss soothed his worries a bit. She climbed on top of him, her arms moved around his neck to hold him to her. She moaned against his lips and he tugged her closer. “I’m sorry,” she said against his ear. “I don’t want you to think that I’m not where I want to be.”

 

He squeezed her tighter. “Good. Because I don’t want any of this without you,” he said against her throat. 


	52. Sansa IX

**SANSA**

 

Sansa watched as Gendry and Arya left the table, officially leaving her alone with Jaime, who seemed content simply sitting beside her. He tilted his head. “I believe that was the first wedding I ever attended that was an Old Gods ceremony.”

 

She smiled. “Jon grew up worshipping the Old Gods, like my father. I believe he even took his Night’s Watch vows in front of a heart tree. Daenerys didn’t have a preference, only cautioned me that the Dothraki tended to get unruly at weddings.” She then frowned and stared at her goblet. “Unfortunately, my second wedding was an Old Gods ceremony.”

 

He frowned and grasped her hand beneath the table. “You’ve handled all this rather well considering.”

 

“Yes, considering that it was the start of my torture at the hands of men who helped kill my family and take my home,” she said with a frown. “But they’re all dead now and I’m not.”

 

“No, my lady, I believe you’ll outlive us all.”

 

She took a sip of her wine and tilted her head. “We hadn’t talked about you going South.”

 

“No, we hadn’t. Only that you wouldn’t help me make the decision,” he said softly, turning towards her a bit as they spoke. “And you’ve still remained rather quiet on the subject.”

 

She shrugged a shoulder and sighed. “I won’t sway you one way or the other. It’s your choice and you have to live with it.”

 

“Given the current situation we find ourselves I do wonder your thoughts on my leaving?”

 

She smirked. “Rather sly of you to phrase it that way.”

 

He gave an answering smirk. “Surely you must know I would want to know that you would miss me?”

 

“And how must I know that? Will you miss me? Pine for me? All the things that minstrels have you believe in songs?”

 

“Pine?” he winced. “It sounds so desperate.”

 

She chuckled. “I suppose it does. Maybe that’s what I want. Someone to desperately long for me.”

 

“I’m not at the stage where I’m willing to say I’m  _ desperate _ .”

 

“Pity,” she smiled and looked down at the raucous group at the end of the table. “They’re all sufficiently drunk.”

 

“I don’t think they’re done drinking,” Jaime said as another flaggen was brought to them. Brienne putting her hand over Podrick’s cup. 

 

“Poor Pod,” Sansa smiled and Jaime turned his head to look at her and she could see what the look was: jealousy. “Why are you jealous of Podrick?”   
  


“Shouldn't I be?”

 

She shook her head. “No.”

 

“But you trust him.”

 

“Of course. He’s been with us since Theon helped me escape Ramsay. Never given me a reason to doubt his loyalty to us or Brienne.”

 

He frowned. “I suppose I simply don’t like any man that you could possibly want.”

 

She leaned forward and shook her head. “I don’t, though. Podrick is a squire and...my friend. There is nothing there to worry over.”

 

“And Theon?”

 

She sighed. “Are we going to dissect every relationship I have with a male that I’m not related to?”

 

“I simply want to know if there is competition for your affections.”

 

“None,” she said finally. “And yours?”

 

He shook his head. “No.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Very, my lady,” he said softly. “That part of my life is over. I came here to make sure that people would continue to live. I suppose, somewhere along the way, I’ve had to accept that the way I had been living had to end. I doubted that I would survive a war with the dead. I also knew that if I did, Cersei wouldn’t allow me to live long enough to question my betrayal.”

 

“But you’ve done both.”

 

He nodded. “I have. It’s strange, having something new to live for besides her protection.”

 

She sighed. “Arya told me that everyone needed to know what they were fighting for. You told me you were fighting for hope. Have you found it?”

 

He smirked slightly. “I have. It’s not much, but there’s some.”

 

Sansa’s eyes met his and she was happy to see that he was solely fixated on her. She tilted her head as she took a sip of her wine then stood. “I think I’d like to walk through the Godswood,” she said as she donned her heavy cloak. “Would you escort me?”

 

He stood and pulled his on as well. “It would be my honor,” she said and could see Brienne start to stand and Jaime waved a hand at her to keep her where she was. The last thing she wanted was her to follow them on a moonlit stroll. They walked out to the courtyard and she looped her arm through his. He opened the gate and then closed it behind them. There were still lights along the pathway leading to the Heartree, but Sansa led him away from that path and into the darkness of the wood.

 

“You hate the North,” she said after a few moments.

 

She heard him chuckle beside her. “I feel  _ hate _ is a strong word.”

 

“Is it accurate?”

 

“Mostly.”

 

Sansa frowned. “I’ll never step foot in King’s Landing, again. Not even after Jon and Daenerys take it.”

 

“You’re confident in their success?”

 

She stopped walking and faced him. She could barely make out the features of his face, but the slight flicker between the trees of the torchlight and what little moon shone illuminated enough of his face. “Considering their success rests on whether or not you can accomplish your task, should I doubt it? Are you able to do what you’ve said you could?”

 

“When I first arrived here, no, I wouldn’t have been able to. But now...it has to be me, doesn’t it? I’m the only one that could get to her, I’ve helped to make her what she is. Isn’t that what you said to me?”

 

“It is. That doesn’t mean that you want to do it. You can question your choice,” she said softly.

 

“I’m afraid if I question it too much then I might not be able to carry through with it. Despite everything she’s done, her numerous attempts at this point to kill me, her betrayal of her own word, all of it...she’s still my sister.”

 

“And a woman you loved.”

 

He frowned. “Foolishly.”

 

“She manipulates people, Jaime. Why would you think she wouldn’t do that to you?” He turned away from her and she brought her hand up to his jaw. “We’re honest with one another. Honesty is sometimes a double edge sword. We long for it, want it, but sometimes when we get it, it hurts more than a lie could.”

 

“I’m tired of dishonesty in this world. I’ve been a contributor to it, I know.”

 

She sighed. “I can play the game as well as anyone. I was taught, after all, by Cersei and Littlefinger. Masters of their crafts. It’s exhausting at times. But I feel like it’s the only way I stay safe is to constantly play.”

 

“Are you playing me?” he questioned.

 

She smiled and took his hand in hers. “It would be much easier if I was.” Sansa was now standing close enough that her body was pressed to his. “I don’t understand how I feel about you. It’s maddening,” she whispered.

 

Jaime pressed his forehead against hers. “Finally, we agree on something,” he said before his lips brushed hers. She released his hand to cup his face, leaning in to kiss him harder. She gasped as she felt his tongue dance along her bottom lip and allowed him to deepen the kiss. Sansa hadn’t realized they were moving until her back was against the tree and she felt the full length of his body pressed against hers. 

 

His hand was at her waist and her fingers were stroking through his hair. She leaned her head back against the tree as he trailed kisses along her jaw and to her throat. “Sansa,” he whispered and looked up at her, his head tilted slightly. The world was a haze of darkness and flickering light. “Is this what you intended when you asked me to escort you?”

 

She smiled and leaned in to kiss him again. “Yes. But...just this. I’m not ready for what everything else brings and I know...there are some hard truths yet to come.”

 

Jaime kissed her again and she allowed herself these moments of being a silly girl allowing a man to kiss her. She was thankful that he seemed happy to oblige.

 

*~*

 

Her head ached as she made her way through the corridor. She couldn’t imagine the state that Tormund, Podrick, Tyrion and the Hound found themselves in that morning. She’d not had nearly as much to drink, though the rest of the evening spent with Jaime in the Godswood had sent her head spinning in other directions. 

 

She knocked on her sister’s door and heard her curse from the other side of the door and the deep groan from Gendry. Arya’s form, wrapped in a grey robe, opened the door. Her hair was standing in several directions and she could make out Gendry’s form on the bed, his head shoved beneath pillows as he slept on his stomach. 

 

“Sansa, it’s early.”

 

“It’s not, actually,” she said with a huff and pushed into the room. “I came to collect the dress to have it cleaned. I wanted to make sure it got there instead of remaining a pile of fabric on the floor.”

 

Arya frowned and grasped the dress. “Actually, let’s discuss the dress before you take it away.”

 

“Why? What happened?”

 

Arya handed it over, looking cautiously at her. Sansa examined it and realized that not only had the holes for the laces been ripped apart at the seams, but it had been ripped almost down to the bottom hem. She glared at Arya. “It’s destroyed.”

 

“Get up,” Arya called over her shoulder to the figure on the bed. Sansa watched him stir and felt like hitting him with his hammer. 

 

He sat up and she could see his eyes focusing and then held his head. “It’s early,” he muttered even as he glared at the sunlight coming in through the windows. 

 

“You destroyed this dress!” she shook the fabric at him as she pushed past Arya who closed the door behind her.

 

His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open a bit. “I did. But, in my defense, I was drunk.”

 

“Is that your only defense?”

 

He rubbed the back of his head and looked to Arya, but her sister remained silent. “No...I mean...I don’t know. I can’t really think.”

 

She then turned to Arya. “You didn’t think to stop him?”

 

Arya, thankfully, looked contrite. “Well, it sort of happened before I knew it. I mean, he went from unlacing it to tearing it open.”

 

“I told Jon not to rip Daenerys’s dress. Who knew I’d have to worry about you?”

 

Arya folded her arms over her chest. “I think, though, you could take it as a compliment.”

 

“A compliment?” Sansa questioned and couldn’t wait to hear the explanation.

 

“Yes. First, you got me to wear the dress. An accomplishment all it’s own. Second, he liked me in it so much he...ripped it off me. That’s really a compliment to your skills at dressmaking.”

 

Sansa was furious. “You two find this funny.”

 

Arya sighed. “No. I’m sorry you’re upset.”

 

“So am I,” Gendry said. “Don’t be angry with Arya. I surprised her,” he explained.

 

Arya was standing between Sansa and Gendry and she wondered if she was afraid she would hurt the man in the bed. 

 

She rolled her eyes and turned, dress still in her hands as she stormed from the room. Sansa went into her own room and lay the dress on the bed. She wanted to pitch it into the fire and thought of doing that until there was a knock on her open door. She turned to find Jaime and her already racing heart sped. He tilted his head at her. “Are you alright?”

 

She pulled him into the room and shut the door. She then handed him the dress. “Look at that and tell me what you see.”

 

He raised an eyebrow at her and frowned as he held it up in front of him. “This is your sister's dress from last night.”

 

“It is,” she said with an aggrieved nod.

 

He looked at it closer and his eyes widened with realization. She could see he was trying to hide a smile. “It’s ripped almost to the hem.”

 

She nodded. “Ruined. Do you know how many nights I spent working on that? How much sleep I didn't get in order to make something for her that she would wear and not hate?”

 

He put it back on the bed. “Obviously, you did a fine job.”

 

She frowned. “What does that mean?”

 

Jaime turned to face her. “That’s a rather...overwhelming reaction. It’s one thing to rip the laces apart, but almost the entire back of the dress is torn.”

 

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

 

He moved to sit in the chair of her morning table. “It’s the reaction of a man who desperately wants a woman.”

 

She turned her back to him and stared into the fire. How did she explain without leaving herself too open? “Ramsay did that to me.”

 

Jaime sighed behind her. “I see.”

 

She then whirled on him. “ _ You see _ ? What do you see?”

 

“It’s not about Arya and her dress. It’s about you and yours. Gendry is not Ramsay and Arya is not you, though.” He frowned. “You’re also not the girl you once were.”

 

“Don’t tell me who I am. Don’t presume you know what I endured.”

 

He frowned but he didn’t break eye contact. “I’ve never said that I know any of it, Sansa. I only know what you’ve told me and I would...I wouldn’t do you the disservice of assuming what you feel or endured.”

 

She felt some of her fury die at his words. She looked down at her hands and shook her head. “I try very hard to block it out. But I’m always reminded of what he did. I carry the scars.”

 

Jaime stood and moved closer to her and cupped her cheek. “No one is asking you to forget.”

 

“I want to. I don’t want that to be all I know.”

 

He pulled her into his arms and leaned his head against hers. “I have hope that it won’t be.”

 

She wrapped her arms around his waist. “That’s all it takes, is it? Hope?”

 

He squeezed her a bit tighter. “Seems to have worked for me recently.”

 

She closed her eyes and sighed. “This might be too nice for us,” she said as she lifted her head. “Maybe I should insult you to make it feel more like us.”

 

He smirked. “Aren’t we beyond insults?”

 

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “I suppose.” She moved out of his arms and turned back to the fire. “What brought you up here?”

 

“Brienne, actually. She asked if I would let you know that she’s postponing our practice until later this evening. Apparently, Podrick and Tormund are still drunk. She’s hoping that at least Podrick is sober later today. I have a feeling, though, if he isn’t she’s going to take it out on him.”

 

She shook her head and smiled. “You’ll take pleasure out of that, I’m certain.” She noticed that he didn’t deny it. “As I said last night, Podrick is not your competition for my affections.”

 

He grasped her elbow and turned her to face him. “And I have your attention and affection?”

 

She moved her hands over his shoulders and nodded. “Yes. Only you.” She rolled her eyes at his smirk. “Try not to look so smug.”

 

“But I’m very good at  _ smug _ .”

 

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, her anger at the ruined dress momentarily forgotten. Sansa felt them moving and Jaime sat in the chair and pulled her across his lap, his hand cupping the back of her head even as hers wrapped around his neck. His mouth left a hot trail along her jaw and to her neck. She released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as his teeth grazed gently over the pulse in her throat. “It’s dangerous to have you in here,” she said softly.

 

He only muttered his agreement against her skin and she smiled. She felt a delicious coiling in her belly, like a wire being pulled tighter and tighter, but no way to release the tension. That frightened her and she pulled away from him, his eyes focusing on her in confusion. “What’s the matter?”

 

She released a shaky breath and stared at her arms which were locked around his neck. “I need to show you something,” she said as she withdrew her arms from around him and settled her hands on her lap. Her fingers worked on the ties at her wrists, always insisting that she have garments that were high collared and long tight sleeves. She wondered what his reaction would be when he saw. It was only the start of them. She hoped it would explain why she was so hesitant. “I don’t know how to actually tell you what happened and why it makes me so...nervous to truly get close to you.”

 

He took her hand in his and shook his head. “Sansa, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”

 

“And I can’t actually say it. That’s why I’m going to show you a bit.” She tugged upward on the sleeve, getting it half-way up her forearm. The white skin of her forearm was marred by red scars that crisscrossed in elaborate patterns. Ramsay had always avoided anything important, leaving just enough to scar. “He never touched anything that could be seen outside of my clothes. He left my hands and my face. He needed my face,” she said the words that echoed in her head so often. Jaime’s thumb traced over the marks, his face a study in concentration. “These marks cover my body. They’re my secret shame and one I’m reluctant to share with anyone.”

 

He shook his head and then looked up at her. She didn’t know what the look on his face was, but she felt his thumb moving along one of the scars. “I’m sorry, my lady, for what happened to you,” he said before he looked back down at her skin. “I’ve allowed the loss of my hand to define me the last few years. I understand about shame. I would never do anything to hurt you. I’m not pushing for anything more than you can give.”

 

“That’s just it, Jaime. I want to give more. But I’m afraid of allowing myself to be too vulnerable. Vulnerability, weakness is what allowed him to do these things to me.”

 

He shook his head. “Being vulnerable doesn’t make you weak. It makes the other person that preys upon it a monster.” He tugged her sleeve back into place and looked up at her once more. “I will gladly take whatever it is you’re willing to give. But also remember that I'm not Ramsay." 

 

She lowered her head and rested her arms around his neck. "Thank you."

 

"Why, my lady, are you thanking me?"

 

She brushed her thumb over his cheek. "For not ridiculing me for my scars. That even if it disgusts you, you didn't make me feel like a disfigured monster."

 

He shook his head. "You and I have something in common. Not what I would like, but perhaps I can make you feel less shame at your scars and you can make me feel less shame about the loss of my hand."

 

She leaned in and kissed him, wanting him to take away her pain just as she wanted to take away his. 


	53. Arya IX

 

**ARYA**

 

Arya heaved a sigh as Sansa left the room and then she closed the door. She turned to see Gendry dressing and the disheartened look on his face. “What are you doing?” she asked softly as she sat on the edge of the bed and watched him furiously pull his tunic over his head.

 

“I’m going to apologize to your sister,” he said as he moved to don his boots and she finally put a hand over his. He stared at the floor for a moment and then turned to her. “You don’t think I should go after her?”

 

“No. I’ll handle Sansa,” she offered, though she had no idea what she could say besides _sorry_. The truth was, she wasn’t really sorry. Even though she had Gendry’s enthusiastic reassurance to try and assuage her that she was enough for him, she still worried that everything was going to change.

 

He frowned as he looked at her and then nudged her with his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

 

She shook her head. “I hate Sansa was angry.”

 

“At least she directed it where it belonged.”

 

She nodded. “That is positive, I suppose,” she said with a smile at him.

 

“What’s wrong with you? And don’t try to pass it off as Sansa, again.”

 

She rested her head on his shoulder and then wrapped her arms around his. “I’ll miss this.”

 

“What?”

 

“All of my family is in the same place. We struggled for so long to get back to each other that I’m now reluctant to let it go.”

 

He wrapped his arm around her, causing her to release him as he pushed her back on the bed. “You’ll always have me,” he said with a grin.

 

She brushed her fingers over the lines at his eyes when he smiled. “Are you sure you’re not going to take after your father and fuck everything that has breasts?”

 

He shook his head. “No. I want you. Only you. If that’s what you’re worried about, then I would tell you that it’s for nothing. First, you’d kill me,” he said and placed a kiss on her nose. “Second, your brother would kill me. And third, what woman could compare to you?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Too much.”

 

“Not enough. You still doubt me?” he frowned.

 

“Not you. Not really,” she said and cupped his face with her hand. “I have no doubt that you mean everything you say. But people change…”

 

He sat up and moved off the bed. “Yes, Arya, people change,” he turned to face her. “I’ve changed. You’ve changed. Yet, here we are. I’m madly in love with you. I thought you were equally in love with me…”

 

“I am.”

 

“Then where is this coming from? I’ve never lied to you. Why would you think I would start with this?” She didn’t know how to explain what she was feeling and she watched him pull his jerkin on and began to lace it. “Arya, I don’t know how to assure you that what I feel for you is genuine and isn’t going anywhere…”

 

“I don’t think you’ll stop loving me…”

 

“Then what?”

 

“I think …it will change.”

 

“Of course it will change. It already has,” he explained and moved to stand in front of her once more. He rested his hands on her knees. “Our relationship has changed since I got here. You thought I was dead. I knew you were alive. We managed to get over the fact that you could have been furious at me for trying to leave you all those years ago. We also managed to figure out that wasting time as if we didn’t mean more to one another than friends was a futile effort. We’ve kissed, we’ve fucked, we’ve fought together and each other. You’re what I want. You’ve been what I wanted for so long I hardly remember wanting anything else,” he looked down at his hands. “Our relationship will change. But I don’t remember that being a bad thing.”

 

She tilted her head as she looked at him. “I’ve hurt you, I know.”

 

“It does hurt me that you doubt me,” he said. “Doubt whether or not I can successfully be a Lord. Doubt whether or not you can successfully be a Lady. Doubt whether or not Jaime Lannister can kill his sister. But don’t doubt that I love you. Just you. In a dress. In leathers. Naked as the day you were born. With a sword in your hand or without. I love you,” he hissed then moved away from her and took up his hammer. “I’ll be back later,” he said as he opened the door.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

He turned to look at her. “To find something to swing my fucking hammer at,” he said before he left the room.

 

Arya watched the door close behind him and groaned in frustration as she put her head in her hands. She was frustrated with herself. She still felt the unmistakable vulnerability course through her. She hated it. She dressed quickly and moved down the hall to Sansa’s room.

 

She knocked on the door and could hear quick shuffling and Sansa’s voice hiss the word _hide_. “Just a moment.” Arya smiled to herself and waited for Sansa to open the door. When it opened she frowned. “Oh. What?”

 

“I just came to talk to you and apologize.”

 

“You’ve apologized already,” she made to close the door in her face, but Arya held out her hand and blocked her from closing the door. “I don’t want to talk to you right now, Arya.”

 

“Too bad. I need to talk to you,” she said as she pushed past Sansa into her room and looked around. She was trying to determine where Sansa would hide someone and then turned to face her and realized she hadn’t moved away from the door which she hadn’t opened or closed. _Sansa you predictable fool_. “Would you close the door? This is a conversation I would rather not share with the entire keep.” Sansa, however, blushed but didn’t move to close it. Arya smirked.  “Would it help if I told you that I know he’s in here and he’s behind the door?”

 

Sansa’s eyes met hers and Jaime stepped around the door. “I’ll see you later,” he said and dropped a kiss on the back of her hand before he left.

 

Arya smiled. “You can close the door, now.”

Sansa closed the door and moved over to the chair beside her table. “We weren’t doing anything. Talking.” Arya nodded and Sansa caved under her stare. “And kissing.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good? You’re not going to chastise me?”

 

Arya shook her head. “No. You’re a grown woman. You’re fully capable of making decisions for yourself. I wish it was someone _other_ than Jaime Lannister, but I know you care for him. I know how…devastated you were when you thought he was seeking to replace Cersei with you. That’s changed?” Sansa nodded and Arya continued. “Then I trust your judgment.”

 

After a moment, Sansa sighed. “Why are you here?”

 

“I need to talk to someone, and it can’t be Gendry. He’s already cross with me.”

 

“Talk about what?”

 

She glanced at the dress laying across Sansa’s bed. “You’re upset about the dress. I understand; I know you worked very hard on it. I’m sorry it upset you. But…Gendry’s reaction to it unsettled me.”

 

“How so?”

 

She sat at the foot of the bed and looked at her hands. “He liked it. A lot. Too much for my liking to be honest. At the time I was caught up in how I felt and how much I wanted him. But…the more I thought about it the more it troubled me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I told you, I had to become something else besides a Lady. I was never going to be as good at it as you. But…putting that dress on made me feel like one. And then…Gendry reacting to it so strongly…he liked it. He can say he likes me in whatever I wear or don’t wear…but he did like it. I’m now worried that when we get to Storm’s End he’s either going to be disappointed that I’m not a proper lady or…he’s going to seek one out, like his father.”

 

Sansa frowned. “Having been around Gendry and Robert, he’s nothing like his father. It’s clear to see that he’s absolutely in love with you.”

 

“But what if that changes.”

 

“All relationships change, Arya. They have to. We as people change. Would you say you’re the same person who left Winterfell all those years ago? Or King’s Landing? Or Braavos? You’ve adapted to become what you are. Relationships can do that, too.”

 

“But I don’t want it to change. I like what we have.”

 

“Liking what you have now doesn’t mean that you won’t like what you have in the future.”

 

Arya frowned and sighed. “What if he changes and he doesn’t want me anymore?”

 

“Then you kill him and come back to Winterfell,” Sansa said with a slight laugh and Arya chuckled. “Arya, I think you’re worried about nothing. He’s hardly left your side since you were reunited. Why are you so unsure?”

 

Arya frowned. “Because every time I think I’ve found a place where I could be happy and content, something comes along and ruins it. It’s only a matter of time before Gendry gets tired of me, right?”

 

“No. Are you afraid you’ll get tired of him?”

 

“No,” she answered quickly. “I’m worried that years from now he’ll look back on all of this and resent me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“My brother named him a Lord. He’s going to take over his father’s home. All things he’s never wanted. He used to lament about Lords and their keeps. And now he’s going to become one. What if he blames that on me?”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “You really love him,” she said and shook her head, amusement coloring her tone.

 

“Why are you saying it like that?”

 

“Arya, I’ve never seen you truly worry about what someone else thinks. You’ve been sleeping with him, brazenly in fact, in front of people. Flaunting it even. You do what you want because you want to. The fact that you’re so torn about what his opinion of you _could_ be in the future is a testament to how much he means to you.”

 

“I love him, Sansa. I’ve loved him for so long, now.”

 

“But you don’t love him the same as you did when you were a girl. It changed. And you can sit here with me, all day, and analyze this until you’ve worked yourself into a right fit. Or you could go find him and tell him what’s truly bothering you.”

 

“Or I could sit here and pester you about what you were doing with Jaime behind closed doors.”

 

Sansa blushed and looked at the table. “I told you. We were talking…and kissing.”

 

“Nothing more? No hand up the skirt or untying of laces to get the lion?”

 

“No,” she insisted. “It’s not…it’s not that easy for me.”

 

Arya grew quiet as she watched Sansa lace the wrist of her dress. It was clear to see that she still suffered under the weight of what was done to her. Arya wished there was something she could do or say to help assuage her fears. “I know you were tortured. You’ve never shared what you went through, but as I told you before, I have a fairly vivid imagination of what horrors exist out there. I also heard horrible tales about what Ramsay did to people around him. It’s not a deep jump to assume that he reaped that on you.” She frowned. “I’m sorry I made light of it before Jin came back to Winterfell…I was angry and looking for a reason to lash out at you. Littlefinger played me and I hate that he did.” She stood and walked to stand in front of Sansa. “But being with someone that takes time to care about you is different. Being able to let yourself go and just enjoy how it feels…is liberating.”

 

“The only experience I have with that, Arya, is bad. I like kissing him. A lot,” she sighed. “And I want more, but I’m afraid.”

 

“You’re allowed to be afraid. But do you believe Jaime will treat you as Ramsay did?”

 

“No.”

“I’m not, by any means, telling you to crawl into Jaime’s bed. But I do think you should know that it’s worth pushing through fear. In fact, it’s one of the best things in life, if you ask me.”

 

“I get nervous.”

 

She smiled and then took the other chair beside Sansa. “Do you know how it is that Gendry and I ever got past the pretending we didn’t care about one another in a romantic way?” Sansa shook her head and eyed her sister wearily. “I overheard a conversation in the hall between Tyrion, Podrick, The Hound, Bronn, and Tormund in which they were discussing Podrick’s abilities in bed. Specifically in how he gave the Lord’s Kiss.”

 

Sansa frowned. “How did that lead to you and Gendry?”

 

“I went to the forge to see him because I wanted to be around him, just unwilling to admit why. And, since he was my friend, I asked him what it was.”

 

“You asked?” Sansa appeared shocked.

 

“I did.”

 

After a moment of silence in which Sansa blushed to her ears, she finally asked aloud. “What did he do?”

 

She chuckled. “He told me, reluctantly. Mainly because he didn’t want me to get the idea to possibly ask someone like Podrick to show me. It was then I realized he was jealous and I sort of liked that he was jealous. I forced the issue and told him I wouldn’t ask anyone else. And so we kissed.”

 

“You did it in the forge?” Her nose wrinkled in distaste.

 

“Not then,” she said quickly. “I mean, we have _fucked_ in the forge. But not at that moment. Bronn and Pod interrupted and he had to make the Scorpions. The day you came looking for me and saw the bite on my neck was the first time.” Sansa looked at her hands and Arya could see she was nervous. “What?”

 

“Did you like it?”

 

“Be specific.”

 

“Both the _Lord’s Kiss_ and sex?”

 

“Yes,” she said with a grin. “The first is actually one of my favorite things,” she said with a grin. “And Gendry knows what he’s doing, so that helps.” Sansa looked like she had more questions and Arya rolled her eyes. “Ask me and stop looking like that.”

 

“How did you feel…relaxed enough to let him do that?”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We were kissing and undressed and he started drifting down and I didn’t stop him. I wanted it. Equal parts because it was us and I wanted him and then because I was curious. Haven’t looked back since.”

 

“I have…scars everywhere,” she said finally. “I’ve told Jaime this, even showed him a bit, but I don’t think he fully comprehends what I’m saying.”

 

“Sometimes you have to show people,” Arya said softly. “That can be as scary as anything else.”

 

Sansa frowned. “I want more, Arya. I simply don’t know how to go about getting it without having a fit and ruining everything. I don’t want to spend my life afraid. I want to be...brave, like you.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes. “You are brave, Sansa. Look at what you’ve come through to get where you are. And you say I’m brave but I’ve been here lamenting to you about my fear of my relationship changing, of losing the man I love. How brave am I really?”

 

Sansa frowned. “So what is the solution?”

 

“I’m going to talk to Gendry. As for you, if Jaime Lannister is who you want then I suggest you tell him what you’re afraid of and see if he can help?”

 

“Help how?”

 

Arya shrugged. “You like kissing. That’s a start. You don’t have to do everything. Simply move along and if you feel uncomfortable make him stop. And should he not stop, there will be a race between Brienne, Jon, and I as to who gets to kill him first.”

 

Sansa nodded. “Go find Gendry.”

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

She smiled. “I have some items dealing with the keep I need to discuss with Maester Wolken. And then later my lesson with Brienne.”

 

“Which gives you some time with Jaime.”

 

She smiled. “It does.”

 

Arya looked back at the dress and sighed. “I am sorry about the dress. Can you fix it?”

 

Sansa frowned. “Possibly.”

 

“Would you. I did like it.”

 

She nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

 

*~*

 

Arya has searched everywhere in the keep for him. The Godswood and the forge included. She heard from a stable boy that he’d taken a horse out, but that had been hours ago. As the day wore on, she began to worry that maybe she had shown too much of her feelings, let him in too much.

 

“That is a rather serious expression,” Brienne said as she sat beside Arya.

 

“Serious thoughts,” she responded. “Where’s Pod?”

 

“Idiot is allowing Tormund to sober him up.”

 

“I like Tormund.” Brienne tried to hide her smile. “You like him too.”

 

“I do,” she admitted finally. “I don’t know exactly why.”

 

“He’s a damn fine fighter, he seems to worship the ground you walk on, and he likes your strength. You’d be a fool not to like him.”

 

“He’s not what I ever had in mind.”

 

“Funny how that happens. I never thought I would be with any man.”

 

“Nor I, my lady.”

 

“Are you? With him?”

 

She was quiet for a moment and then looked at Arya. “Yes. Though not everyone is aware.”

 

Arya smiled. “He’s good for you. Keeps you on your toes.”

 

Brienne nodded and frowned. “He told me he wants to make babies with me. Scared me to be honest, when he said it at first, but now...I’m not as opposed to the idea as I once was.”

 

“How does that fall into your vow to Sansa?”

 

“My vow was to both of you. Not just Sansa.” Arya smiled. “I can do both.”

 

Arya smiled. “A warrior and a mother?”

 

“Of course. Why should I give up one to be the other? He wouldn’t want me to. Tormund likes it when I fight.”

 

Arya smiled at Brienne, then thought about Gendry and her fight with him. “I don’t know how to be both.”

 

“Neither do I,” she admitted. “But I want to try. What about you? You’ll be the lady of a keep and a fearsome warrior.”

 

Arya frowned. “Warrior I know. Lady is harder to wrap my head around.”

 

“And what does Gendry say?”

 

“He loves me no matter what.”

 

Brienne sighed. “Perhaps that’s enough.”

 

“The future is so uncertain.”

 

She nodded. “It always has been. The point of it, though, is to persevere through it anyway. The recent attempt on your life should prove that it could end at any moment.” She sighed. “And just think about this, you were at least given some skills and taught what a Lady should be. Gendry is a bastard boy raised in Flea Bottom and is now in the role of a Lord with no training, no one to rely on but you. If you have doubt then what must he be feeling.”

 

Arya sighed. “He says he’s sure of us. It’s everything else he’s uncertain about.”

 

“Then take comfort in that.” Arya saw Jaime and Sansa enter into the courtyard, Sansa dressed ready to practice with her sword. “Will you be joining us?”

 

Arya nodded and glanced at the gate, hoping to see Gendry ride through.

 

*~*

 

It was after nightfall before he arrived back at the keep. She met him at the stables as he handed over the reins to the stable boy. When he turned, she was standing in front of him, her hands behind her back. “Find something to swing your hammer at?”

 

He shook his head. “No. But riding helped.”

 

She frowned. “You needed time away.”

 

“I did. From all of this.”

 

“From me,” she asserted.

 

He took her by the hand and pulled her with him to the Godswood. She went willingly, hoping there was some sort of answer from him that didn’t make her want to do violence. “Despite how I feel about you, sometimes you’re a pain in my ass. That hasn’t changed in all the years we’ve known one another. You make me feel like I’m going mad. I love you, Arya. None of this, not Storm's End, not a Lordship, not this bloody war, none of it means anything without you. I don’t know how to make you see that you’re what I want, forever.”

 

She lowered her head. “You don’t know that. What if you grow tired of me? What if we both change so much that we grow apart?”

 

“Look at me and tell me that you actually think that will happen. I never stopped thinking about you. All those years we were apart my mind always drifted back to you. I know I want to be with you, only you. Perhaps the problem is that you don’t know if you want to be with me and all that comes with it now.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“Meaning it was easier for you to be with me when I was a blacksmith and there was no responsibility on either of us. But now you feel like you’re being forced into a role you didn’t want and you blame me for it. I’m going to Storm's End. We will take it back and, once again, the world as you know it will change. It’s not what you wanted when we got together,” he sighed. “It’s rather selfish of me to expect you to just go along with all of this because I assumed that you would be alright with it once the shock wore off. But the truth is, I don’t know that you will ever be someone who will be content to stay in a keep or with one person...”

 

“Gendry...”

 

“Look, I’m trying very hard to be a gentleman and let you go because it’s the right thing to do...”

 

“No! You’re wrong.”

 

“How am I wrong? Do you want to be a lady? Do you want to run a keep? Do you really want to spend your time in council meetings instead of fighting with your sword?” Her heart was pounding and her hands were shaking. “I love you enough not to force you to be something you don’t want to be, Arya.”

 

She shook her head. “You are so stupid.”

 

“Insulting me seems about right,” he responded tersely.

 

“What I mean is that you are taking the choice out of my hands, aren’t you? Am I supposed to let you walk away? How does that solve anything?”

 

“It doesn’t hold you to an obligation you didn’t know you’d be under.”

 

“How dare you! It’s supposed to be you and me. That’s it. You’re not going to tell me that you’re letting me go. I refuse to let you go! That’s what all my fear is centered around, Gendry. I love what we have so much I don’t want it to ever go away and you’re trying to get rid of it out of some disgusting notion that you’re saving me from something. I didn’t think I could be a lady and a warrior. It scared me that I would have to choose.”

 

“I never said you had to make that choice!”

 

“But I still felt like I did! And your reaction to me looking like a lady scared me because I thought that you would want me to choose that!”

 

“I would never ask you to be something you’re not! I love you! I don’t know how plain I can make it! I love you, Arya. Warrior, assassin, lady, Stark...all of it. I love all of it! But I won’t hold you to something you don’t want. I will not let this be the reason you hate me down the road.”

 

Her expression softened and she moved forward to wrap her arms around his waist. “If you don’t want me to resent you then don’t let me go. Don’t give up on us.” She felt him take a deep breath before his arms wrapped around her and he placed a kiss on top of her head. “I should kill you for trying to leave me.”

 

“I want you to be happy.”

 

“If you weren’t so stupid you would know that I am happy with you. So happy that I was afraid of that changing. I love you, Gendry. I do. It’s been a part of me for a long time, now, and I know that this will change. I feared that you would change and would find me lacking.”

 

“Never. You’re almost more than I can handle now.”

 

“You don’t get to let me go. And I’ll stop pushing you away.” She lifted her head to gaze at him and he pressed his lips to her nose. “We’ll simply continue to love one another and fight on occasion of us both being stupid and stubborn.”

 

“And the lady bit?”

 

“I don’t have to choose. Visenya didn’t. Nymeria didn’t. Daenerys doesn’t. Why should I?”

 

“You don’t. As far as I’m concerned, you never have to.”

 

She nodded and pulled away from him and took his hand. “Come on,” she said as she began to lead the way out of the wood.

 

“Where are we going?”

 

“I want you inside me, so we’re going to our room.” His hand stopped her and she turned to look at him and he diverted off the path, Arya trailing behind him. “Didn’t you hear me?”

 

“I did. But...” he said as he turned and faced her. “I want you to show me how unladylike you can be,” he said as he cupped her face and brought her lips against his. She smiled against his lips and pushed him back against a tree as his fingers moved through her hair while hers worked on his leathers, already feeling his cock straining against the laces. He moved to bite gently at her neck and she closed her eyes at the scrape of his teeth. They would figure it out, somehow, she knew. The Lady and the Smith. The Lord and the Assassin.

  



	54. Jon X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran continues to be a huge source of knowledge and more to how he was before. Jon speaks to the Lords of the North and conducts a plan on how to sway the Eyrie to their side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Guys! It feels like forever since I updated, but it's only been five days, I think. But that's a lot for me. Do not fear, my dear readers. I have no intentions of leaving this fic unfinished. I already have the end plotted out. But just to give you some peace of mind, I'll let you into my world a little bit. Years ago, I herniated a disc in my lower back. Most of the time I hardly notice because it's just something to push on through cause adults do things they don't want to do. It's part of being an adult. But the other day I slipped in my laundry room and fell flat on my back. It sidelined me for at least two days. It still hurts at times, but it's getting better. My brother is also getting married this weekend to the most wonderful girl and our world is sort of consumed by that at the moment. But I have been trying to find time to write whenever I can. I already have the end of this fic written, so no worries there. 
> 
> I also apologize for not responding to all of your comments lately. I simply haven't had time, but I do read them. I also understand that everyone is entitled to their opinion. I won't delete a comment unless it's just belligerent. If you still take issue with the pairings in this fic, fifty chapters in, then that's your problem. I've noted them in the header, and you've had fifty chapters to determine that these are the pairings I chose and these are the pairings I'm locked in to. Not changing that now and no amount of complaining about it will change it.

 

**JON**

 

He woke the next morning to find Daenerys already dressed and Missandei working her hair into her normal elaborate braids. Daenerys stood at her dressing table and bid Missandei leave them and she turned her attention to him and he gave her a small smile.

 

“Davos has called for the Lords and Ladies of the North to meet with you at noon. Sansa, Arya, and Bran have been informed.”

 

“Back to the war,” he mumbled.

 

She nodded. “I think it’s for the best that we focus our attention on this. She’s already sent assassins. What if she decides to send her army and we’re unprepared? I still like our odds, but I think it’s best if we start making preparations to march South.”

 

He nodded. “The sooner we dispose of Cersei the sooner we can start on the world we want to build. Helping people.”

 

She smiled and nodded. “Exactly. Now, _husband_ , get dressed, eat, and I’ll see you after your meeting with the North.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “What are your plans?”

 

“I’m going to tend to Drogon and Rhaegal then meet with Tyrion, Yara, and Theon. We can have dinner here, alone, later if you like,” she said as she stepped forward and cupped his face in her hands. He nodded and pulled her down for a kiss.

 

“Please don’t fly on Drogon. And take guards with you.”

 

She narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to tell me what to do?”

 

He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “Not at all. But after the assassins and with you being pregnant, I don’t feel like tempting fate.”

 

She nodded. “I’ll agree if you’ll agree to ride with me later.”

 

He kissed her again. “I agree.”

 

She stepped away from him and towards the door. “I wish you good fortune in the talks to come,” she said with a wink and left the room.

 

He opened the door and requested that Ser Davos be sent to him, dressed, and then broke his fast. He was soon joined by Davos who sat with him while he ate. “Any idea how this is going to play?”

 

“You have Lady Mormont’s support. And I believe Lord Glover. He did attend your wedding.”

 

“Why would they oppose Daenerys or me? I could understand before the war with the Night King. But she climbed on that dragon and led her men to fight for us all. It’s what made me decide to bend the knee in the first place. She’s willing to fight for people.”

 

Davos nodded. “I’m aware of all of that, your grace. She’s also now your wife, which they might see as making you a bit biased.”

 

He shook his head. “This is the part of ruling that I hate, Davos. The politics.”

 

Davos sighed. “The important thing to remember is to keep your temper in check and listen to them. You’ll have support from others in the room so it might be a good idea to allow others to speak up for you. Your siblings as well.”

 

Jon heaved a sigh. “Any concerns you’d like to voice?”

 

Davos chuckled. “No, your grace. I’ve nothing but confidence in you and the queen. Jaime Lannister being able to succeed is a question though.”

 

Jon frowned. “You doubt him.”

 

“Don't you?”

 

He nodded. “Of course. I’d be a fool not to doubt him, wouldn’t I?” Jon tilted his head as he watched the older man. “He did volunteer to do it, though. We'll need to make a plan in case he fails.”

 

“Tyrion, Varys, and I spoke at length yesterday. We believe we have a sound contingency. Tyrion has more faith in Jaime than you or I.”  

 

“What is the contingency?”

 

“Smuggling,” He said softly. “Only instead of sneaking in, we’ll sneak out.”

 

“Wildfire?”

 

He nodded. “The only way that we know of to destroy wildfire is to burn it. Varys has received word from some of his little birds that one of the pyromancers has already been watering down the barrels.”

 

“Watering down?”

 

“As in using colored water to fill the barrels.”

 

“How many has he managed to do?”

 

“Not as many as you would like.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “I’ll speak with Bran. He’s able to see better and I trust his sight more than spies.”

 

Davos nodded. “We can speak to him before.”

 

Jon nodded and stood. He pulled his cloak on and adjusted the straps and he left his room followed by Davos. He found Bran in his father's study with Sam, Gilly, and Baby Sam. Bran didn’t look up from the small boy as Jon entered.

 

“Jon,” he said as he took the hand of the little boy and he giggled. “You’re anxious about the meeting. And you want to know about the pyromancer.”

 

Sam looked up at Jon, a smirk on his face. It still greatly unnerved Jon that Bran could see everything. “I am anxious. But I’d like to know more about this pyromancer.”

 

“His family lives in the city. He knows Cersei’s plan and wants to get his family out but they are being guarded when they get home. She trusts no one but The Mountain and Qyburn.” He looked back at Baby Sam who giggled at his tickling fingers. Bran’s smile was quick and it reminded him of the brother he’d left behind all those years ago.

 

Bran turned his attention back to Jon. “Qyburn is having adjustments made to the Scorpions. They know that Drogon was shot before but it barely pierced him. They’re making them bigger and with bigger lances. They will be hidden throughout the city when they’re done.”

 

Jon frowned and clenched and unclenched his fists. “Do you know where and how many?”

 

He shook his head. “They’re undecided at the moment. And at least nine.”

 

“What of her mercenaries?”

 

“They’re stationed throughout the city. The elephants are kept to the South.”

 

“How many?”

 

“Five Hundred.”

 

Jon felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs. Five hundred elephants and most people in Westeros has never seen a live one. Like dragons. He heaved a deep breath and looked to Davos. “How do we plan for five hundred elephants?”

 

“I don’t know, your grace. We have two dragons.”

 

“Bran, is there anything else that you can tell me that might help?”

 

Bran furrowed his brow. “Lord Royce doesn’t support Daenerys or you. You should be prepared for that when you meet with the Lords.”

 

*~*

 

Jon was standing at the long table as the Lords and ladies of the North made their way inside and seated. Once the doors were shut he stood before his people and felt the full burden of the war and his responsibility weigh upon his shoulders. He nearly crumbled to his chair beneath it.

 

“Thank you, my Lords and Ladies, for making the journey to Winterfell. In your ravens requesting your presence here today, you were also informed of my marriage to Queen Daenerys, of House Targaryen.”

 

“You’re a Targaryen as well,” someone yelled from the back.

 

Jon stood straighter, feeling as if the person meant it as an insult. “Information has come to light that does show that Ned Stark was not my father, but my uncle. Lyanna Stark was my mother.”

 

“And Rhaegar Targaryen was your father.”

 

“Aye. There is a document from the citadel showing the annulment of Rhaegar's marriage to Ellia Martell and a marriage between him and Lyanna.”

 

Lord Royce stood. “Our loyalty has always been to Lady Sansa.”

 

Jon glanced at her and then back to Lord Royce. “My Lord, I appreciate your support for my sister. Your help during the battle for Winterfell and against the dead was an immeasurable asset. All of you who gave your people to help fight are owed a debt I can not hope to repay. But I must ask for your help once more.” He took a deep breath. “There is still a war to be fought and until Cersei Lannister is removed from power, there is still the risk of destruction.”

 

“From Cersei Lannister or your _wife_?” Lord Royce questioned.

 

“Refer to her in such a tone again, my Lord, and I’ll see to it that when the war is won we repay you with the same disrespect you’ve shown to her.” Lord Royce looked chastised enough to once more take his seat. “ _Queen Daenerys_ could have taken the North numerous times now. Instead, she brought her armies here to fight for us. To fight for you. Having never met any of you, she turned her eyes from her target at King’s Landing and fixed it here to help us fight an enemy we could not have defeated without her aid. You fought against the dead. You watched her dragons battle in the air. She fought for you. _We_ fought for you.”

 

He looked at Davos and frowned and the older man shared a similar look of distaste and disappointment. “The North Remembers,” Jon began as he walked around the table and stood amongst the people gathered. “We say it often enough that you would think that it means something. What will the North remember? That her father, the Mad King, burned my uncle and grandfather alive? That he reigned terror down on its people? That while attending a wedding, my brother and Lady Stark along with many of your family members were murdered? That you fought with me against the Bolton’s for Winterfell? Or...will we remember that when the night was darkest, we came together and fought our common enemy? Will we remember that we helped save this country from Cersei Lannister and her corruption?”

 

Lord Kerwyn stood and spoke. “You seek to usurp Cersei Lannister, yet you’re housing two Lannisters. Why are we not holding them accountable for their acts?”

 

Jon furrowed his brow and knew he would have to defend them. Jaime was harder to defend in his eyes. Tyrion would be first. He was easier to defend. “Queen Daenerys has named Tyrion her Hand. Together, he and Ser Davos have already been working on battle plans as well as how to make a better world. The world Daenerys and I hope to build. He was sentenced to death for supposedly killing his evil nephew, Joffrey, but we know for certain that he did kill his father, Tywin, who helped orchestrate The Red Wedding. Tyrion has killed more Lannisters than anyone else in this room. He glanced at Sansa. “He also protected my sister, Sansa, in King's Landing. I think we can acknowledge that he is possibly an ally worth having if our goal is to remove another Lannister.”

 

He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts. “Jaime Lannister fought alongside us in the battle against the dead. He rode North even after his sister betrayed her word. He’s responsible for a great many treacheries, I know, but he came to our aid and told us of Cersei’s betrayal when he didn’t have to. For that, I will allow him to live.”

 

“And what of you? You’re Aegon Targaryen. We believed you to be a Stark.”

 

“I am a Stark.”

 

“You’re also a Targaryen.”

 

He paused for a moment and tried to think of what to say to possibly assuage their concerns. He didn’t know anything about being a Targaryen. He knew he would have to accept who he was, half Targaryen and half Stark. It was still foreign to him. It made him think of Daenerys and how certain she seemed of her right to it all, and how she hadn’t questioned whether or not he had a claim to it. _Targaryen’s and Starks were allies for centuries..._ His wife, his queen. “Starks and Targaryens were allies for centuries. And we are again.”

 

“Some of us remember the Mad King,” one of the older lords spoke and Jon’s frown deepened.

 

“The Mad King is dead. I am not the Mad King. And as I have said before, we shall not punish the child for the sins of the father. My Lords and Ladies, I ask for your allegiance when we march south because this is our home. Our country. We should care more about it and it’s people than what lives above the Neck. I’ve been to King's Landing. There are a million people that live within its walls that suffer because of Cersei. How long until she extends her reach here? How long until she comes for you and your families? Because she will. She can’t allow the North to exist as it is and not be beneath her. And that’s how she sees all of us. Beneath her, not worth scraping from her boot. And we don’t have the displeasure of living beneath her thumb at all times. I am asking for your support. You named me King of the North, and I hold that to be nothing but the highest honor from you. And as Your king, I ask you to follow me one last time.”

 

The room was silent, and he wondered if they could even find it within them to do what he was asking. They needed their own countrymen to help fight Cersei. And the North was the hardest group to win over. Everyone knew it. He didn’t take their faith lightly, he only hoped they would still consider him their king.

 

The silence began to hang too long, and Lord Glover stood. “I haven’t always agreed with you. In fact, it wasn’t long ago I questioned putting my faith in you as our King. But you fought for us. I saw Queen Daenerys fall from that dragon. I also saw her get up and resume the fight. I watched those dragons collide in the air.” He sighed. “She is a Targaryen. So are you. But she also fought to help save our lives. We wouldn’t have won that war without her armies or her dragons. You defeated the Night King. I saw you slay him. I don’t know what will happen in the future or if we will all regret going South again, but you have my support.”

 

Lyanna Mormont stood next. “And you have what I can offer from Bear Island, your grace. The _North Remembers._ House Mormont _remembers_.”

 

Jon noticed the other Lord’s pledge their aid, with the exception of Lord Royce. Jon waited for the roar of the crowd to die before he addressed him. “Lord Royce?”

 

He looked around the room before he stood and shook his head. “The Eyrie is not going to take up arms against Cersei Lannister. But we will also not take up arms against the Targaryens.”

 

Jon felt her stand beside him and looked over at Sansa. “You claim to be loyal to me. Then your loyalty should be to my brother.”

 

“With all due respect, my lady, he is not your brother.”

 

Sansa’s eyes hardened. “And what respect is there in that statement? Jon is my brother. When I needed someone to help me take back our home, Jon led the armies. He united Northmen and Wildlings to fight for Winterfell, the center of this country, while most in this room sat back and did nothing. You only came to our aid because of the manipulations of Lord Baelish. Your loyalty is so easily maneuvered.”

 

Lord Royce huffed, “My loyalty is to Lord Robin and the Eyrie and we extended that to you, my Lady, because of your mother.”

 

Jon interrupted whatever Sansa was going to say. “Very well. You may return to the Eyrie. Is there anything else?” He could feel Sansa’s eyes burning into him, but she bit her tongue.

 

“When will we march?” Lord Glover asked.

 

“A fortnight,” he said firmly. “Collect your men and supplies. If you have siege weapons we could use those. Please let Ser Davos know what we can expect from you. I’d like a moment alone with my family.”

 

Davos exited the room with the Lords and closed the doors behind him. “Why would you let him speak to you like that?” Arya questioned.

 

Jon smirked a bit, though. “Arya, how was the Eyrie won during Aegon’s conquest?”

 

“Visenya took her dragon...” she then smiled. “Lord Royce won’t be able to make it to the Eyrie as quickly as you would on a dragon.”

 

“No, I don’t believe he will.”

 

“Will you take Daenerys?”

 

“Yes. Tomorrow,” he said as he looked at his family. “Sansa, try to keep Lord Royce in Winterfell for a few days. And should anyone ask, we’re in council meetings throughout the day. I’d very much hate for all of us to miss his expression when he receives the letter from his Lord.”

 

Sansa smiled. “That’s rather calculating for you, Jon.”

 

“Too much time around Lannisters,” he said as he glanced at her.

 

Her expression faltered but her calm mask was once more in place. “Tyrion is probably the best at calculating his enemies moves,” she said slowly and then followed that with helpful information. “I’ve met Robin. He’s a spoiled and petulant child.”

 

“Do you think it won’t work?” Arya questioned.

 

She shook her head. “It’s because of those reasons that I think it will work.”

 

Arya folded her arms over her chest. “That went better than I thought. I don’t understand why they still take issue with Daenerys, though.”

 

“A foreign invader,” he said softly. “It’s how I saw her before I got to know her. A foreign invader with foreign armies. I don’t know that there is another way to look at her from their perspective. But I knew that if she fought for them that they would come to see her for what she is.”

 

Sansa took her seat once more and frowned. “I suppose you’ll all be gone soon.”

 

Jon nodded and looked at her sadly. “Winterfell will be in your capable hands.”

 

Bran reached out a hand to Sansa and she looked over at him with a small smile. “I’ll still be here.”

 

She put her hand over his. “Good. I’ll need a distraction from worry. And you can be my eyes,” she said, smiling warmly at her brother who returned it.

 

*~*

 

Jon looked at the map of Westeros in his solar sometime later and Arya interrupted his thoughts. She gave him a small smile as she entered, but he could tell she had something on her mind. They didn’t talk as much as he wished. Something always seemed to come along to distract both of them. It was also easy to get wrapped up in someone else, and both he and Arya had fallen victim to that. She closed the door behind her and faced him.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“Mapping out my journey with Daenerys to the Eyrie,” he answered. “Shouldn’t take longer than a few days. Davos will need your help to hide that we’ve left.”

 

“I wish you could take a contingent of men with you. As a precaution.”

 

“We’ll have Drogon and Rhaegal. I think we’ll be safe,” he said with a small smile. “What brings you in here? You’re not outside telling everyone how their skills need improving.”

 

She smiled. “I do like telling people they’re wrong.”

 

He chuckled. “I remember.”

 

“I would like to fight you, one day.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “I’ve seen you fight. I know how that would end.”

 

“It’s rather cruel of you to not indulge your sister.”

 

He took a seat in a chair nearby and shrugged. “Then I’m cruel. Already living up to the Targaryen name.”

 

“I think you and Daenerys have proven that you’re not cruel.”

 

“I think there are enough people out there that would disagree about Daenerys. I was one of them, at first. All the lies and stories about her.”

 

She shook her head. “Fools. Men. When a woman displays power they seek to tame it or destroy it. In certain cases, rightfully so. Daenerys is not cruel. She is a result of choices made for and by her. She realizes that.”

 

“You admire her?” he said a smile on his face. He was glad that his family approved of her. He actually thought she would be the one that would be hardest to win over, but that had been Sansa. And even then, after a few conversations with Daenerys even she came around to see that the Dragon Queen wasn’t what people had been saying. She was some of it, but not all.

 

Arya smiled and sat across from him. “Of course. I always loved the idea of the Targaryen Queens riding into battle on their dragons. I never thought I would see it. But she did. She fought and won. She’ll fight and win again. So will you.”

 

“What about you? Worried about you and Gendry taking Storm’s End?”

 

She shook her head. “No. More worried about the years to come. But, I think Gendry and I have come to an agreement on the future.”

 

He nodded. “He’s a good man.”

 

Arya smiled and nodded. “He is.” She frowned then and looked at her hands. “You know of my list and that Cersei and the Mountain were both on it,” to which Jon nodded and she continued, “I’m angry with you for taking that away from me.”

 

Jon frowned. “I need you to do something else, Arya.”

 

She sighed. “I know. But I haven’t been out to do things for other people in a very long time. Becoming a Faceless Man was for me. No one else. I wanted to learn how to be a killer because I like it,” she admitted. “I don’t want to. But I do,” she sighed. “If Jaime fails to complete his task, I can get into the castle and I can kill her without anyone suspecting me.”

 

“You’ll be in Storm’s End.”

 

“What I’m saying, Jon, is all it would take would be a raven and I would ride to King’s Landing and deliver her head.”

 

He clenched his fist and frowned. “We’ll see if our other plans work, first. We’ll call you our final plan.”

 

“Why are you so reluctant?”

 

He looked to the fire and then back at her. “I know you’re grown and have experienced things that I couldn’t fathom. I hate that you had to do any of it. Part of me still thinks of you as the little girl I gave a sword. Sometimes it’s hard for me to make even in my mind that you’re a woman, a warrior, and not the little girl who longed not to be a lady.”

 

“Yet, now, I’m going to be a Lady. But a warrior, too.”

 

He smiled. “Aye. Perhaps that’s what you were always meant to be.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you're still reading this fic, drop me a line, say hello!


	55. Daenerys X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys speaks with Tyrion and Yara about future plans and Jon executes his to get the Lord of the Eyrie on his side.

**DAENERYS**

 

_She could hear the crying as she raced down the corridor. The sound of a baby in distress. There were no doors, just the length of the corridor extending before her. Her heart raced, her body shook, but she kept running. The sound of a great thud caused her to fall against the wall and suddenly there were two babies crying._

 

_“I’M COMING!” she screamed and started running again but the corridor transformed into the Godswood, and her hair was snagged on the branches, her crown tumbling to the ground behind her. She freed her hair and then it was her wedding dress and cloak that were being held. She removed both, running through the forest to come upon the bassinets with Jon standing in front. He looked over his shoulder at her, nothing but disgust on his face._

 

_“I should have known that you would only bring more monsters into this world,” he spat as he stepped aside to let her see into bassinets and she stood in shock. Her hands moved to her mouth, covering her gasp. “What type of woman gives birth to monsters?”_

 

_They were dragon eggs, one bright red and black, the other grey and white. She touched one and it cracked open in her hands. Instead of a dragon, though, it was a baby. She felt joy and fear all at the same time, then watched as it melted in her arms and dropped to the ground. “No!” She picked up the other to see it transform as well and also drop to the ground at her feet._

 

*~*

 

Her hands still shook from the force of the nightmare she’d had. She hadn’t told or woken Jon, as at first she’d been so terrified while in the bed she couldn’t move, could hardly breathe. Only the warmth of his hand resting on her belly and the feel of his breath against her neck had convinced her that it had only been a dream.

 

She had slipped from the bed as quietly as she could and stoked the fire back to life. She’d dressed and even had Missandei come in and do her hair to prepare for the day. She hadn’t eaten breakfast as she couldn’t think to put anything into her already swirling stomach. It had been so real, she could almost smell the trees and blood.

 

Daenerys had practically run from Jon and the quiet of their room. Even as he’d awaken and been perfectly ruffled, she had turned from him, never letting on that she was put out of sorts.

 

The world had to carry on. She couldn’t allow herself to become so fully distracted by her love for him. They had to take King’s Landing and they had to do it soon. She’d left word with Tyrion and Davos that they were to plan to leave in a fortnight and to make sure Jon knew it. She hadn’t the time to sit and confer with him that morning. She knew if she lingered with him too long, she would be sucked back into the bed and into his embrace. There were more important things. And keeping the nightmare at bay was enough for her.

 

She had taken two of the Unsullied warriors with her as she had walked out of the keep and through the gates. Drogon and Rhaegal sensed her approach and moved to her as the Unsullied stayed back to allow her to greet her children. Drogon had practically wrapped around her as Rhaegal had nudged his nose against her. She raised a hand and petted them both. Her children. They would always be her children. At the thought, Drogon rubbed his snout gently against her belly and she smiled.

 

“You two knew before I did, didn’t you?” she said to them. Suddenly, their attention was pulled to behind her and she looked over her shoulder to see Tyrion approach. They turned their attention back to her and she turned to her Hand who had his own two soldiers following him around the keep. The assassin put into his room had stirred up the realization that none of them were safe from Cersei.

 

“I hope you had a lovely wedding night, your grace?”

 

Daenerys rolled her eyes and glanced at him, noticing the smile that he hid behind his heavy beard. “I doubt you came out here to discuss it.”  

 

He smiled. “I did not. I came to discuss the upcoming war.”

 

She nodded. “You have a specific issue, I’m sure.”

 

“Davos and I have been discussing what would happen if Jaime failed. I, personally, believe he won’t. But I understand if there are concerns about his ability to see the job done.”

 

Daenerys turned to Drogon and pressed her forehead against his head, even as Rhaegal’s tail wrapped around her. She felt peace when she was with them. They were part of her. “I don’t doubt your brother,” she said with a sigh. She sent Rhaegal and Drogon into the air, allowing them to fly overhead. People stopped being so surprised by them, now.

 

He nodded. “I sense there is a _but_?”

 

She shook her head as she turned to walk back to the keep, noticing the Lords and Ladies moving into the hall as she led the way to the solar she had been using. She knew Yara and Theon would join them soon, and it would be down to having a very difficult discussion about what to do next.

 

“It’s not, really. I think he feels he has an added incentive to complete his task.”

 

Tyrion smiled slightly. “Ah, you know of that?”

 

“You know it?” she asked.

 

“I’m one of his only friends and his brother. Of course, I know. Does Jon?”

 

She shook her head. “If he does, he hasn’t said a word to me about it. Which makes me believe they don’t want him to know and we should keep it between us.”

 

“But you are concerned?”

 

“Of course I am. Sansa is unsure, now, of whether or not she will ever marry again. But, strategically, it would be good for House Stark if she did. But how much better for the realm would it be if she were to marry your brother? The Lannisters and the Starks set aside the enmity between their houses and unite. He killed my father, but I know why and much as I hate how it sent my life into a spiral, I know it was a decision that had to be made.”

 

Tyrion shook his head and avoided the part about her father. “Jaime’s never wanted to get married.”

 

“When he was sleeping with your sister? I can see how that would be true. But he’s not with her anymore.” She sighed as she sat in a chair and he sat in the one facing her. “But it would do a lot to help unite the country if a Lannister was to marry a Stark.”

 

“It didn’t do much good the last time,” he reminded her.

 

“Different circumstances. We have Casterly Rock. We need someone to be a warden to that part of the country. Who better than your brother and a true high-born lady?”

 

“I don’t believe Sansa will ever go South again.”

 

She sighed. “All of this is hypothetical, of course. I would never force a marriage on Sansa, she’s had enough of that. But I do wonder at your brother’s thoughts on the subject.”

 

“The last time I talked to Jaime, he was miserable because she had told him to keep his distance from her...”

 

“I gathered that’s changed. At least, it seemed to at the wedding.”

 

He smirked. “I noticed that as well. But still, I don’t know if an affection for each other could persuade them that their marriage would be good for the realm.”

 

She shook her head. “People rarely see things like that on such broad terms. But, feel Jaime out and see what his thoughts are on it now. If he’s changed his position on marriage, it might be worthwhile to encourage the relationship more.”

 

He frowned. “While I do enjoy playing the game, I do feel a bit dirty using Sansa and Jaime as pawns in it.”

 

Daenerys frowned. “Not pawns. I care for Sansa. I’ve...never had a sister. It seems to me that Sansa and Arya are the only sisters I’ll ever have. I want their happiness. However, if this is a possibility, it’s one worth exploring.”

 

“Will you discuss this with your husband?”

 

She shook her head. “If Sansa is romantically involved with Jaime, then it’s her responsibility to tell him. Not mine. If and when she does tell him, then I think it’s prudent that I be supportive on Sansa finding happiness. And I hope that Jaime would be the one to give that to her.”

 

Tyrion nodded. “Of course. I have to admit, I do see the advantages.” He paused for a moment and then changed tactics. “Now, onto other matters. Varys has received word from King’s Landing that one of the pyromancers is watering down the barrels of Wildfire. He’s not able to do too many, but he’s doing his best. He has family in King’s Landing and knows what will happen if Cersei decides to burn it all.”

 

She stood and paced the room. “She knows that’s why my father was killed. Jaime couldn’t let him burn the city. He’s offered to kill her to keep all of it from happening again. But it’s different now. The person he has to kill is his sister and woman he loves or loved. Tell me we have a plan in the works in case he fails.”

 

Tyrion nodded. “Davos, Varys, and I have been working on something. We plan to inform the both of you once we’ve agreed on a few finer points of the plan.”

 

“And how long will that take if we’re leaving in a fortnight?”

 

Tyrion sighed. “I see you’ve already spoken with Davos?”

 

“Briefly and only because he appeared at the door when I summoned Missandei. He told me of the meeting between Jon and the Lords and that you had worked out a plan that would see us leave Winterfell then.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “I hope we can suss it out and be ready to discuss it with you tomorrow.”

 

She nodded but was kept from saying anything by the knock at the door. Yara and Theon entered the room and Daenerys moved over to them, Yara extended her left hand for Daenerys to take, which she did, then to Theon. “I hope your rooms are comfortable.”

 

“They’re fine,” Yara said as she took a seat in the chair Tyrion had vacated. He stood beside Daenerys as Theon stood beside Yara.

 

“The Iron Fleet...how many ships?” Tyrion questioned.

 

“After our attack, four hundred. Euron’s flagship still remains.”

 

“We will need the ships to carry the Unsullied to King’s Landing.”

 

“How do we get around the part where Euron is dead and not going to be able to meet with her?” Yara questioned.

 

“There are catapults on the ships?”

 

“Yes,” Theon answered.

 

“We’ll have you travel to King’s Landing, let her believe her reinforcements have arrived and, if necessary, your catapults will attack the keep. But only if given the signal.”

 

“And what signal would that be?”

 

“Drogon,” he responded.

 

Daenerys stared at Yara’s swollen belly then turned her attention to the fire. “Tyrion, take Theon and fill him in on the military plans. I’d like to discuss ruling with Yara.”

 

Tyrion nodded and Theon put a steady hand on Yara’s shoulder before he left. Daenerys sat across from her and heaved a sigh. “Our deal still stands,” Daenerys said softly. “You will be Queen of the Iron Islands. I hope that we can have kingdoms that can mutually help one another.”

 

“Of course,” Yara answered.

 

“I asked them to leave the room because I wanted to ask you about your child.”

 

Yara shrugged. “What of it?”

 

“Moon tea won’t work at this point...”

 

“I’ve already wondered at having it removed. I’m told it can’t be done without me dying as well. Another of Euron’s little tricks. His continued torment of me.”

 

“When the child is born...”

 

“Executed. As humanely as possible.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “You’ve thought of no other options?”

 

“What other _options_ could there possibly be? I don’t want his demon child. And no one else should have to look upon it either.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “It is your choice.” She frowned. “I am sorry for what happened to you. I’m very glad you’re alive. We feared the worst.”

 

“I experienced the worst,” she said calmly. “A sadistic asshole, my uncle. It brought me great pleasure to watch Theon kill him. It would have given me more had I been the one to slit his throat.”

 

Daenerys sighed. “What do you need from me? Is there anything I can give you?”

 

Yara was silent for a moment and then sighed. “Continue to treat me as you always have. That’s all I request.”

 

Daenerys nodded and stood. “I’ll call for Theon and Tyrion...” she said as she walked to the door.

  
“Oh, I do request one thing,” she said softly. “A pardon from the King of the North for Theon.”

 

Daenerys turned and faced Yara. “Why?”

 

“Theon doesn’t want to live in the Iron Islands. He hasn’t said as much, but I could tell when we were riding here and he told stories of his adventures with Robb and Jon...he loves the North. I think he would settle here, but he would need something from the King in the North pardoning him for what he did, his betrayal of the Starks. That way, if someone did hurt him, they could be hanged as murderers.”

 

Daenerys heaved a sigh. “I’ll speak with him. As this is his home and it was his family, he’ll make the decision.”

 

“You’re his wife. You can sway him if you want.”

 

Daenerys folded her arms in front of her. “I don’t think it would require me to sway him at all. Jon doesn’t seem to hold my taste for vengeance.”

 

*~*

 

Hours later, Tyrion and Missandei sat in the solar with her. Tyrion was regaling both women with stories of his youth and how much trouble he would get into on his own or with others when a knock sounded on the door and Jon entered, still in his heavy Northron cloak, and Davos behind him. The door was closed behind him and he pulled out her heavy cloak and handed it to her, then showed a bag at his side and tucked away some of the fruit and bread sitting on the table.

 

He also took one of the heavy furs from the back of Tyrion’s chair and shoved it inside as well. Daenerys frowned at Tyrion and then Jon. “What’s going on?”

 

“We’re leaving,” he said softly. “Just you and I.”

 

Tyrion was on his feet. “What’s happening?”

 

Davos spoke then. “Lord Royce has declared that he will not allow the Knights of the Vale to side with you. Jon has a plan, however.”

 

“It requires just Daenerys and I.”

 

She slipped her cloak on over her shoulders. “What?”

 

“We’re going to the Eyrie.”

 

Tyrion shook his head. “Have you lost your mind? That puts you entirely too close to King’s Landing. And what if someone spots you on the road.”

 

“We aren’t going by roads,” he said as he looked at Daenerys and she smiled.

 

“Visenya. You intend to coax Lord Robin on our side with the dragons.”

 

“Only one. Do you believe Drogon or Rhaegal would be best to allow him to possibly ride?”

 

She thought on it for a moment and sighed. “Not Drogon. He tends to do what he wants.”

 

“Then we’ll take Rhaegal. Your job,” he said as he looked between Tyrion, Davos, and Messandei, “is to convince everyone that Daenerys and I have decided to take a few more days to ourselves. We are just married after all. It shouldn’t be that difficult.”

 

Tyrion stepped forward. “This boy that you’re going to see isn’t...he’s rather dimwitted.”

 

“Good. It will make him easier to persuade,” Daenerys said as she looped her arm through Jon’s. “We were going to ride together later, anyway. We’ll take both dragons as we usually do, and then I’ll send Drogon back under the cover of night.”

 

“And how do we explain the absence of the large green dragon?” Tyrion asked.

 

“They’re dragons. They do what they want,” she said, staring him in the eye pointedly. She knew he would argue more feverently if he knew she was pregnant. She was glad they hadn’t told him yet.

 

“What orders if the worst should happen?” Tyrion questioned.

 

Daenerys heaved a sigh. “You mean if Jon, Rhaegal, and I die?”

 

“That would be the worst, yes,” he said vehemently.

 

“Have more faith, Tyrion,” she said softly. “But I believe you should consult with the Starks and work a plan from there,” she said as she watched Jon hide the bag beneath his cloak and took his arm once more. They left the room and had two of the Unsullied follow them to the dragons.

 

“ _Tell no one we’ve left or when we come back. You’re to stand guard outside our room as if we are in it. No one is to know we aren’t,”_ she told them to which they nodded. As they arrived outside the gates, the sun was beginning to set. Anyone who had been in the keep for a long period of time would know that this was almost customary at this point. Jon and Daenerys rode the dragons together towards the later hours.  She did as she usually did and climbed onto Drogon and he onto Rhaegal.

 

*~*

 

They landed in a clearing in the woods nearly three hours later. Jon gathered wood as Daenerys sent Drogon back to Winterfell. Jon gathered the wood in front of them and before he could even begin to start a spark, he felt Daenerys put her hand on his shoulder and smile. “Rhaegal,” she said and Jon understood her aim. He moved back from the fire as she spoke the word. “Dracarys.”

 

A quick burst of flame from the dragon and the sticks were on fire, but miraculously none of the wood around them was. Rhaegal moved close to the fire and Daenerys settled against his side on the ground, her cloak pulled tight around her, and pulled Jon to her side. He reached into the bag and pulled out the extra fur he’d packed and draped it over them then handed her a piece of bread and cheese. “I know I sprung all of this on you quickly, but it needed to be done before anyone figured out my plan.”

 

She shook her head as she chewed through the cheese and held it up for him to bite. She rested her head on his shoulder. “I understand why. It’s a brilliant plan,” she said with a smile up at him. “I would expect Tyrion is probably drunk by now to stave off his worry.”

 

Jon smirked. “He worries for you.”

 

“He needs to worry about more than just me. You and I are in this together. I’ll have to remind him of that.”

 

“Imagine how he would have reacted to my plan if he knew you were pregnant,” he said softly.

 

“I believe he would have clung to my ankles as we flew away,” she said with a sad smile. “He’s a good man. I think he would like for people to think otherwise, sometimes.”

 

“He and his brother seem to have that in common. Though, it’s difficult to remember that Jaime isn’t our enemy.”

 

She shrugged. “Perhaps he’s changed. Tyrion tells me that he was always too influenced by Cersei. When this is all over, we should reward him for his service.”

 

He looked down at her and furrowed his brow. “Reward him?”

 

“Allow him to be the Warden of the Reach from Casterly Rock.”

 

Jon was silent and then nodded. “That would be smart. Show that the Targaryens and the Starks are willing to put faith in a Lannister despite all he’s done. Though, if he manages to actually kill his sister then I suppose we would owe him something like that.”

 

She looped her arms through his as Rhaegal seemed to curl around them, blocking in the heat of the fire with his large body. She heaved a sigh as he held out another bit of cheese for her and she popped it into her mouth. They were silent, the heaves of Rhaegal’s breathing behind them lulled her into an almost doze, but as she remembered her dream from that morning, her eyes flew open and her body stiffened. Jon looked at her concerned. “What’s the matter?”

 

Daenerys didn’t know if she should share it with him, but she knew she had to talk about it, just to get it out of her head. “I had a nightmare that woke me early this morning. I’m having a difficult time shaking it away.”

 

He frowned. “What was it?”

 

She closed her eyes. “The babies...they died. Melted in my arms...”

 

He placed a kiss on top of her head. “Last I checked, I don’t think babies can melt.”

 

She sighed. “It was more than that. They were eggs, first. Like Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viscerion. And when I touched them they turned into beautiful babies. But they melted and you said to me _What kind of woman gives birth to monsters_? I woke up soon after. And it felt so real. The loss, your hatred...all of it.”

 

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close. “Daenerys I could never hate you.”

 

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what it’s like to lose a child,” she said, her voice breaking. “It still feels like yesterday that I lost Rhaego. Viscerion. I carry the ache of their losses with me every day. I hate the thought that I could lose this child and have you hate me for it.”

 

He tilted her head up to look at him and he frowned. “Daenerys, the fact that you’re even pregnant is a blessing. I wouldn’t hate you. I could never hate you, I swear it.” He heaved a sigh and she closed her eyes. “It was a dream, Dany.”

 

“You should know, Jon, that my dreams have come true in the past,” she said softly.

 

“This won’t be one of them,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “No matter what happens we’re together. That’s the way all of this has worked so far.”

 

She cupped his face in her hands and placed a kiss against his lips then settled her head against his shoulder. His hand smoothed over her belly and she covered his with hers. “I love you, Jon.”

 

“I’m completely in love with you,” he whispered. They were both silent for a moment and when he spoke again she smiled. “You said babies.”

 

“What?”

 

“There were two babies in your dream?”

 

She nodded. “Yes,” she said as that hadn’t been the part she focused on but instead the horror of watching them melt in her arms. “Do you suppose there are...”

 

He hugged her a bit tighter. “I suppose we shall see.”

 

*~*

 

The next morning, they flew over the Eyrie, Rhaegal circling over the keep before he was told to descend. She could see people moving around on the ground and then look up frightened as his shadow covered the ground. People were running for cover as the great dragon landed in the open courtyard. The door in front of them opened and a boy followed by guards exited out into the yard. Rhaegal roared as Jon climbed from his back and helped Daenerys down.

 

Daenerys and Jon moved forward together and she smiled at the boy. “Lord Robin Arryn, I am Queen Daenerys Targaryen, the mother of dragons. This is King Aegon Targaryen, or you might remember talk of him from your family, the Starks, as Jon Snow, King of the North. We come to you with glad tidings from your cousin, Sansa Stark, who thanks you for the service of your men in the fight to take back her home.”

 

Jon nodded. “And also an offer that I don’t think you’d want to pass.”

 

Robin stared at them for a few moments and tilted his head as his men stood beside him, their swords drawn. He waved his hand and they lowered their swords. “What sort of offer?”


	56. Sansa X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Attempts at diplomacy and steps forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I know it's been a few days. Things are starting to get back to normal (or as normal as can be), but I still won't be posting every day. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. 
> 
> I also wanted to say thank you for all your support. Brook, one of my loyal commenters and readers, pointed out to me that under the ASOIF tag on this site, this fic has the most kudos. That's insane to me! It still surprises me that anyone would want to read what I write. And I know I don't always get my canon stuff correct, or even in some cases, spell names wrong. But you guys have been amazing! I can't thank you enough for making me feel as welcome as I have and I hope that you continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it. As for how many chapters we have left...I have no idea. I know what I want to happen in the rest of the fic, but no clear-cut idea as to how long it will take to get there.

  


**SANSA**

 

Sansa walked down the corridor with Podrick and Brienne flanking her. She was walking with purpose to the room set aside for Lord Royce, as she had been set her task by Jon and she meant to accomplish it. She knocked on the door and was greeted by one of his protector Knights.

 

“Please tell Lord Royce that Lady Sansa wishes to speak with him.”

 

The door opened fully and the large mass of the man filled the space. “Come to carry me away for execution?”

 

Sansa tilted her head in confusion. “Of course not, my lord. I wished to speak to you in private. I’m afraid that emotions ran a bit high during the meeting, and you have been loyal to me. I only wished to speak to you to make sure that you did not leave under hostile terms.”

 

He stepped aside and allowed Sansa inside, Brienne and Podrick entering as well. She was glad of their company as she wanted witnesses to what was going to happen. At least, if it played out the way she wanted.

 

“My Lord, I know your reservations about supporting my brother and Queen Daenerys,” she interrupted him before he could speak, “and before you disparage my relationship with him again, I would tell you that there is no other way for me to think of Jon. We were raised together, him alongside my brothers of blood. I thought my entire life that he was my father’s son. I could no more consider him to not be my brother than I could Robb, Bran, or Rickon. Please consider that before speaking to me in regards to Jon.”

 

Lord Royce seemed to consider his words and then spoke to Sansa. “I brought the Knights of the Vale to your aid out of manipulation on Lord Baelish’s part. He was able to sway Sweet Robin so easily. I’m sure you remember how he had such control.” She nodded at his words. “I did not agree with the decision to come help you, but once my Lord gave the order, I came with the army to assist you,” he heaved a sigh. “We won the battle for Winterfell. The Knights of the Vale. You know this. Then you asked us to help you with the fight against the dead. We did that as well, with a very high death toll. Now, your _king_ requests our help to depose Queen Cersei. What will we pay next?”

 

Sansa kept his eye and nodded. “I respect your decision, my lord. I don’t agree with it, but I respect it. None of us want to think about another war as we just came out of one. But the war against Cersei is not one we can ignore any more than the one against the dead. She’s already tried to kill my family. If you are loyal to me, as you claim, then you would try to avenge what was nearly done to me and my sister and brother. You came here because you were trying to be loyal to your lord who ordered you to come, yet you stayed when you needn’t. I have to believe that you understood that there is a greater purpose to what we’re doing than simply seeking a fight. The Lannister family has done a great deal of harm to all people, not just my family.”

 

“Yet, you house two Lannisters, the queen’s own brothers.”

 

She folded her hands in front of her. “Tyrion is the Hand of Queen Daenerys. He is loyal her. He was also very kind to me when I was in King’s Landing and forced to marry him. He never said an unkind word to me or let harm come to me once we were married. Tyrion is honorable.”

 

“And Jaime Lannister?”

 

Her thoughts swirled as her own emotions were tied to Jaime. “Everyone in the keep knows by now that I asked for Jaime Lannister’s head. I know well what and who he is. However, his sister betrayed her word and abandoned the fight after she pledged aid. He could have ridden South and hidden away. Instead, he turned and brought what he could to help. It wasn’t much, but he was injured on the field of battle. He also happened to save my life. He had no obligation to do any of those things. For that, I will extend him my trust.”

 

She continued. “I also spent a great deal of time with Cersei, unfortunately. She is cold, she is cruel, and she cares nothing of the suffering of other people. Surely, in your heart, you can’t support her as being queen.”

 

He huffed out a sigh. “I don’t. But I also don’t trust the Targaryen queen. I’ve heard the stories of her while in Essos. She burned men alive. Destroyed cities. And then she left to come here and...what, exactly? Do more of the same?”

 

Sansa shook her head. “The stories of what Queen Daenerys have done can be best explained by those who were with her. Those she freed when she _destroyed cities_ or _burned men alive_. What men? Killers? Rapists? Slavers? Would you allow any of those to reside in your keep? And the cities? Slave cities. The Unsullied, for instance, were given the choice to leave. She would have let them at any time. Yet, they decided to fight for the woman who freed them. The Dothraki respect strength, which is what she has. She champions those who are forgotten and lost in this world. Which could possibly explain why she decided to align with Jon.”

 

She took a steadying breath, hoping that some of this was getting through. “Jon was raised a bastard. My mother and even I were cold, and sometimes cruel to him. He joined the Night’s Watch because he wanted to be a part of something greater. He had no idea what the Night’s Watch had become because no one had told him. However, he fought against the Wildlings before he was captured. He learned of them, of their culture, their people. They all matter to him. He was selected to be Lord Commander, not by every man, but he was selected. And as Lord Commander, he did what he felt was right. Jon has always been a man of honor as that was the way my father raised him. You know he fights for his people. You’ve seen him. He’s never asked someone to do what he himself was not willing.”

 

“You saw them both fight against the dead. You know that they are a force in this world that is out to do good and save people.” She furrowed her brow. “I know we ask a great task of you, Lord Royce. It is no easy thing to decide to put people’s lives in jeopardy. But since you rode to my aid many moons ago you have been loyal to my mother’s daughter. You helped to erase Lord Baelish from this world, a man who essentially destroyed my family for his own ambition. I ask of you to reconsider your stance on aligning with King Jon and Queen Daenerys.”

 

Lord Royce heaved a sigh. “Lady Sansa, I respect you. I even respect King Jon and Queen Daenerys. But this is not our fight. If they want to travel south and pledge against Cersei, they will have to do it without the Eyrie.”

 

Sansa nodded and felt discouragement. “I’m sorry you feel that way, my Lord. And, I know you are anxious to get back home, however, our scouts have reported that there is a great storm that will be arriving tonight that will make the roads treacherous. I bid you stay and enjoy the hospitality of Winterfell until the storm passes.”

 

He nodded. “That is very gracious of you, my lady.”

 

She gave him a small smile and turned to leave with Brienne and Podrick and made her way back to her room. “My lady, what did you hope to accomplish with that meeting? Surely you didn’t expect him to change his mind?”

 

Sansa shook her head. “I did not. However, I wanted him to consider things from another perspective than from his current. He did me the service of riding to the North to my aid, I thought I should at least try to broker some sort of understanding,” she said as she entered her room and Podrick stayed in the hall as she spoke with Brienne. “It’s a difficult thing to ask. You heard how adamant he was about not supporting Targaryens. I need to make sure he understood that I considered Jon my brother and that I put my support behind Jon _and_ Daenerys.”

 

Brienne nodded. “I’m sure they will appreciate your efforts.”

 

“Let’s hope it does some good to change his mind with the coming storm.”

 

Brienne tilted her head, a slight smile on her face. “Is there a storm?”

 

Sansa glanced up at Brienne. “You doubt the sincerity of my words?”

 

“No. However, I’ve been with you most of the day, since the meeting with the Northron lords. I was wondering when you got this report?”

 

Sansa gave her a small smile, their eyes meeting in understanding. “It must have been when you were training with Podrick.”

 

Brienne nodded. “Of course.”

 

“I think that will be all for the evening. I plan to finish some correspondence and go to bed.”

 

“Yes, I’ll leave you to your evening. Sleep well, my lady.”

 

“Thank you,” she said as she closed the door behind Brienne and leaned against it briefly. She pulled off her heavy cloak and placed it on the hook beside the door and called for one of her handmaidens to come in and help her ready for bed. She brushed out Sansa’s hair and left once she’d finished. She tended to the parchments on her table then stared at her bed once she was finished.

 

She wasn’t actually tired, though she probably should have been considering the hectic day she’d had. The meeting with the Northron lords was difficult and her ire had been raised by Lord Royce’s heavy-handedness concerning Jon. However, she did have faith in Jon’s plan to lure Robin to their side. She wondered how Lord Royce would react when he realized he’d been duped. She knew he would do whatever Robin requested, but she knew his alliance would then be brittle at best and at worst he would ride back to the Eyrie to try and convince him that he shouldn’t align with them. She felt wearying thinking that their entire plan rested on Jon to play tactful politician. She was glad Daenerys went with him as they tempered one another.

 

Her training session with Brienne had gone abysmally, though the other woman hadn’t said anything about it. She admitted she’d been distracted from the second Jaime had brushed against her to the second he’d gone back into the keep. Sansa knew that she had to keep her traitorous body under control and couldn’t lose her focus every time he was near. She also knew that if she intended this to go any farther she would have to tell Jon. The rest of her family knew. Even Daenerys knew. She didn’t know how he would react, though. He supported Arya and Gendry, though, he had never pushed their brother from a window. Or fought against their family on numerous occasions.

 

She looked down at the slight swell of her breast. The scars were visible and still made her sick. She hated Ramsay. The only thing that gave her comfort was knowing he died and that she was the one to witness it. Whenever the thoughts got to be too much, she would flash back to the fear in his eyes as he realized his hounds would tear him apart. She took a deep breath and smiled at the thought.

 

*~*

 

Sansa stood beside Jaime and watched as Brienne sent Podrick to the ground once more. The squire looked up at the sky from his back and Sansa felt sympathy for him. It was still snowing, covering the ground with a thick blanket that made maneuvering around difficult. But mixed with the mud of the courtyard, it was nearly like wading through thick sludge.

 

She glanced at Jaime to see a slight smirk on his face and she rolled her eyes. “You’re enjoying this a bit too much.”

 

He shook his head and smirked over at her. “Why would you think I’m enjoying this?”

 

“The smirk on your face.”

 

“Maybe I simply enjoy the suffering of others,” he commented.

 

She shook her head again. “We both know that’s not entirely true.”

 

“Are you suggesting, my lady, that I enjoy watching the squire being bested repeatedly for another reason?”

 

Her eyes met his and she turned away, afraid to linger too long. After Podrick was sent to the ground again, Sansa decided to take pity on him and end their training session. She and Jaime had already had already trained, Podrick was always last and whatever frustrations Brienne had she took out on him. “Brienne, I’m ready to go inside and get the day started.”

 

“Why don’t you stay out here and train with Podrick? I’m going in to get warm. I’ll escort her back to her room,” Jaime offered.

 

Brienne furrowed her brow and looked at the two of them with suspicion. “Are you sure?”

 

He nodded. “She’ll have the Wildlings to escort her once she’s in the keep.”

 

“My lady?”

 

Sansa looked at Jaime and then back to Brienne and gave a nod. “Yes, please continue training with Podrick,” she said with a smile. “And don’t enjoy this so much,” she said before she turned and began walking back to the keep with Jaime. As they entered she turned to him and frowned. “You could make it less obvious.”

 

“I could,” he said with a nod. “I’m not sure I want to. I’ve spent my entire life sneaking around, hiding in shadows to have a moment alone with the person I cared for. I don’t know that I want to spend what time I have left doing the same thing.”

 

They started down the corridor. “You understand that Jon does not know about any of this. I would hate for him to find out through gossip.”

 

“Then tell him,” he said.

 

They stopped outside of her door and she looked up at him. “There’s also the problem that the Northron lords would be rather unhappy to find that I’ve taken up with you.”

 

He leaned in to her, a smirk on his face. “Do you actually care?”

 

She pushed her door open and stepped inside. Sansa reached out and grabbed the front of his jerkin and pulled him in with her and he closed the door behind him before his arms were around her and his lips against hers. She moaned as his tongue stroked against hers even as he continued backing her up until the back of her knees hit one of the chairs of her table. She gasped as she felt his fingers sliding up along her thigh to the laces of her leathers.

 

“Jaime...”

 

“I’ll stop if you want,” he whispered against her mouth. She shook her head and her head fell back as he slipped the tip of his fingers against her clit. Her eyes closed at the burst of pleasure that traveled through her and shook against him, feeling her body barely able to stand. She didn’t know if he picked up on this, but he pushed her to sit and dropped to his knees in front of her, causing him to withdraw from her slightly. He then worked on removing her boots. He tugged on the front of her leathers and she hesitated for a moment and his eyes met hers. “I will stop, Sansa,” he said softly.

 

She swallowed the fear she felt and helped him tug them off. In the light of day, the scars on her pale skin stood out like a flame against the snow. Angry red marks lined her legs, crisscrossing, curling around her skin. Fucking Ramsay. She feared Jaime’s reaction, that he would be repulsed by her. But he bent his head and followed one long scar that started at her knee and trailed over the top of her thigh. She moaned as his hand slipped beneath her tunic and touched her again as he continued to kiss each scar. She shivered beneath his touch and nearly panicked as he tugged her to the edge of the chair and he was between her parted thighs.

 

However, it drifted into nothing as she felt the first touch of his tongue to her folds. She no longer cared what someone would think if they walked in at that moment. Sansa ran her fingers through his hair and never wanted him to stop. She didn’t know anything could feel this way. He circled around her entrance then sucked her clit into his mouth and she shook beneath him as she gripped his hair tightly in her hands. She was spinning higher and faster towards a peak and her heart raced, her breath came out as labored pants. She was close to something, feeling it building from the point of his tongue down to her toes and fingers. She wanted to reach it but prolong the experience as long as she could.

 

As she fell over the edge, her vision went white and her body bowed towards him. This was what she had been denied for so long and she could hardly breathe as small waves of pleasure still moved through her. This she would cling to for years to come, this feeling of bliss that surged through her blood and caused her body to shiver beneath him.

 

She felt boneless beneath his tongue and she wasn’t sure how she would function after that. She released the hold she had on his hair and he sat up. She dropped her legs from his shoulders and he leaned in to kiss her. Sansa nearly hadn’t let him, but tasting herself on his tongue was new and exciting. Jaime pulled away from her, a smile on his face. “How am I supposed to go about the rest of the day, now?”

 

Her fingers trailed over his jaw and her thumb traced his bottom lip. “I suppose the same way I’ll have to go through mine. Was that your intention when you offered to escort me?”

 

He shrugged. “And if I said yes?”

 

“Even more sly than I originally thought.”

 

“I do aim to impress you.”

 

“Consider me impressed,” she whispered.

 

He leaned in to kiss her again, his hand sliding along her bare thigh. He pulled away from her abruptly, though, and was on his feet. “I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

 

“You’re leaving?” she questioned.

 

He helped her to her feet and kissed her, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. “Yes. I’ve tempted fate too much by staying so long,” he whispered. “You want to keep this a secret, remember.”

 

“Will I see you again?”

 

He nodded. “Try to keep me away,” he said as he placed a final kiss on her nose then left her room. Sansa stared at the closed door then tugged her leathers back on and called for her handmaiden to come help her dress. As she was brushing out her hair, all she could think about was the feel of his mouth on her. She wanted more.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some people still take issue with Sansa/Jaime, but to be honest, they're one of my favorite parts of this story to write.


	57. Jaime X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime does some soul searching and his life is threatened twice. Meanwhile, Sansa still likes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the time between updates! I was going to update yesterday morning but the internet went down and by the time it was back up I had received word that my uncle/godfather had a heart attack and so we went to visit him.
> 
> I also don't want people to think that I'm giving up on this because it has taken me so long to update. I know it's only a week, but I was able to update every day there for a while, sometimes twice a day. But that was when I was about 10 chapters ahead of where I was currently writing. Unfortunately, I've caught up and I can't churn out chapters a day. 
> 
> I also went back and forth about who's POV this needed to be as I could have made it Jon, Arya, or Jaime. As you can see, I went with Jaime. But I do have part of Jon and Arya written, so hopefully, those shouldn't be but a few days. I'm sorry for the lack of updates. I really feel horrible about it. But please keep reading and drop me a line if you want.

 

 

 

**JAIME**

 

He shut the door behind him and closed his eyes for a moment. He walked down the hall and down the stairs to his room. As he entered, he felt a sick feeling in his stomach and tried to push it away. Instead, he walked over to the basin and splashed water on his face, hoping it would help soothe the anxious feeling that had settled on him.

 

Jaime felt like a lecherous old man in that moment. She’d said numerous times she hadn’t been ready for more than kissing and maybe a slight fondle here and there and he practically forced himself on her. He’d fled the room before he made it worse.

 

She hadn’t stopped him, but as he thought back on it he wasn’t sure he’d given her much of a choice. The thought made his skin crawl. How was he any better than the men that had taken advantage of her in the past? She may have enjoyed it, but would she have consented if he’d asked her first? Would she have protested more if there had been a gradual lead up instead of him shoving his hand down her trousers?

 

He sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his hand over his brow. Maybe he’d been right when trying to keep his distance from her before. He cared for her, didn’t want anyone to hurt her, especially not him. For as much as she’d been hurt and used in the past, he couldn’t shake the feeling that what he’d done had been wrong.

 

The knock on his door brought him from his thoughts. “Who is it?”

 

“Your brother.”

 

“Come in.” Tyrion gave him a nod as he entered and shut the door behind him. Jaime watched him expectantly and when he didn’t say anything he snapped. “What do you want?”

 

“A few things, actually. The first is reassurance that you can get into the Red Keep and to our sister.”

 

He sighed. “You doubt me?”

 

Tyrion shook his head. “No. I know you. And I know how much you loved Cersei. I’m simply curious if now that you’ve had a few days between the attack and today if you’ve changed your mind?”

 

He frowned. “Is there another option where thousands of people don’t die?”

 

Tyrion sighed and shook his head. “Unfortunately, I don’t think there is. It worries me, though. You may have accepted that she is what I’ve been saying all these years, but when faced with her, when you have to look her in the eye, what will you do?”

 

Jaime looked at the floor and once again felt his stomach roll. He wished he had a finite answer for him. He wished he could say for certain what he would do. It’s been easy being away from King's Landing and not under Cersei’s control. Had she done anything else other than threatening his life, would he have stayed? Then he remembered the burning pile of rubble that was the Sept of Baelor. The hope that everyone in the pit had when she had declared she would send help, and then own crushing realization that she had lied. It was still a game to her.

 

But then there was the loss of a child that never existed. She had felt his loyalty was so shifting that she had to fabricate a pregnancy. He would have done anything for her. How could she have doubted him? He’d stuck beside her through everything, gave up any sort of future just to be near her for the rest of his life. He’d watched three of his own children be brought into the world only for him to never be able to claim them as his. Any relationship he’d had with Cersei, no matter how much happiness it had ever brought either of them, it could never have been anything more than secrets, despite what she thought at the end.

 

Despite everything he had given up, she had lied to him, to his face. It caused his heart to ache as if he’d lost another child. Myrcella being especially difficult as she had truly been an innocent. The brief smile and assurance from her before her death had meant more to him than anything else ever could have. He rubbed his hand over his face, trying to keep away the tears at the reminder that had been taken from him at the precise moment when she had admitted she’d known the truth. Myrcella was good and pure and everything right in the world.

 

He had hoped that maybe the child Cersei had told him she was carrying could have been that as well. Maybe she or he would have been a Lord or Lady to bring about something new for the Lannisters. Make people see them as more than manipulative unfeeling monsters. But it had all been a lie. He ached in his soul when he thought of it. And as he closed his eyes, he still felt the bitter sting from learning the truth.

 

Lies. Everyone lies.

 

“Jaime?”

 

Tyrion said his name softly and he realized it had been several moments since he last spoke. “I can’t give you a guarantee, Tyrion,” he said softly. “But...how do I allow her to live given all she’s done? Not just to me. That’s about all the assurance I can give you,” he said as he stood and splashed water on his face again.

 

He heard a chair scrape across the floor and turned to find his brother was planning to stay rather than allow him to wallow in his misery alone. But just that morning he hadn’t been miserable. He’d been happy with Sansa standing at his side, her blue eyes playful as they’d teased on another. And then he’d ruined that, too.

 

“What troubles you? And it’s more than just Cersei. Did you have another falling out with Sansa?”

 

He shook his head. “Not exactly.”

 

“Then, what, exactly?”

 

He heaved a sigh. “I may have pushed too far.”

 

Tyrion’s usually stoic countenance turned into a scowl. “What did you do? Did you hurt her?”

 

He shook his head. “No...I don’t know.”

 

“Jaime...I can’t protect you if you have done something to hurt her, nor do I think I’d want to. Tell me what you did! I don’t like surprises.”

 

“I’m not talking to you about this,” he said dully.

 

Tyrion was on his feet. “She’s endured quite enough of men forcing themselves on her. Did you do that?” At Jaime’s silence, Tyrion slammed his hand on the table and Jaime winced. “What did you do!?”

 

“I didn’t rape her.”

 

“But you did something.”

 

“She...didn’t make me stop.”

 

At that, Tyrion furrowed his brow. “Did you fuck her?”

 

“No. She’s not ready for that.”

 

Tyrion almost seemed to sag in relief. “Then what, _brother_ , did you do?”

 

He tilted his head and frowned. “The...Lord’s kiss.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “But you feel you forced this on her?”

 

“I didn’t give her much opportunity to say no.”

 

“Which she didn’t?” Tyrion looked to the ground and took a deep breath. “Was she angry with you when you left?”

 

Jaime frowned and looked at his brother. “If I feel it was overstepping...”

 

“But she doesn’t, does she?”

 

“She didn’t seem to.”

 

“I suggest you take the stairs two at a time, find her, and make sure that you didn’t do that to her. If you question what happened then what must she feel? You should know better!” He barked and Jaime realized it was almost an order rather than a suggestion. Jaime walked to the door and left Tyrion alone in his room. He knew his brother was right and his conscience would not allow him to rest until he settled his guilty mind. He reached her door as it opened and Sansa stared at him surprised.

 

He nudged her back into her room and closed the door behind him. She was staring at him with wide blue eyes, an expression of curiosity on her face. “What’s wrong?”

 

He didn’t know exactly how to start or what to say. “Sansa...what happened earlier...” She blushed a bit, but she didn’t turn away. The words came out in a rush and he feared they were just a jumbled mess and made no sense. “Do you feel I took advantage of you?”

 

She straightened and tilted her head as she frowned. “What? Why would ask that?”

 

He looked at the floor instead of her. “You didn’t stop me, but...I don’t feel I gave you the opportunity to stop me.”

 

Sansa shook her head and took his hand in hers. “Jaime, I _didn’t_ stop you. I had the chance and choice. The thing is, I know if I had said _stop_ or _don’t_ or anything other than what was said, you would have. Do you doubt that?”

 

He shook his head. “No, but...”

 

“But what?”

 

He sighed. “You were only just comfortable showing me the scars on your arm. I appreciated the magnitude of what that meant. I feel like I didn’t...that I might have pushed too far too fast.”

 

She smiled and shook her head. “You didn’t,” she said as she touched his face and brushed her thumb over his jaw. “The truth is I live with what happened to me every day. It makes my skin crawl and my chest ache.” She moved a hand over his shoulder and cupped the back of his head. “What we did...it’s the opposite of that. It’s something I never want to forget. I want to live with _that_ memory. I want you to help me make more.”

 

He frowned. “Why?”

 

She shrugged. “No idea, really,” she said with a small laugh. “But believe me, Jaime, I don’t blame you or think of you in the same way. And all I could think was I wanted more,” she said though her face flamed. She leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips.

 

He released a deep breath, unsure why he still felt so uneasy. She brushed her fingers against his cheek and he finally wrapped his arms around her and pressed his forehead against hers. “You’ll tell me if anything we do makes you uncomfortable.”

 

She nodded. “Of course. And you’ll tell me,” she said finally.

 

He furrowed his brow and looked at her. “What do you mean?”

 

Sansa didn’t move out of his arms but pulled back from him just a bit. “Jaime, you were with Cersei your entire life. I know you were loyal to her. Perhaps the guilt you feel isn’t because you think that you wronged me,” she said softly.

 

He released her and heaved a sigh. “Why should I feel guilty?”

 

“I agree. Why should you? But emotions and feelings rarely ever make sense. Hence, you’re here with me.” Jaime felt even more confused than he had when he’d ascended the stairs. She placed another kiss on his lips. “I really have to get downstairs and get some things done. But, find me later and we can talk. I was planning to practice later tonight with my sword if you’d like to join me.”

 

He released her and nodded. “I’m sorry to have kept you.”

 

She frowned and shook her head. “Don’t be sorry. Jaime, I care for you. You know that. We’ve managed to maintain honesty with one another in a world that urges us to do anything but. I’m relieved that you felt you could talk to me. I’d hate to think that you regretted what we did because you felt like you might have taken advantage.”

 

He brought a hand to her face and placed a kiss on her lips once again. “I care for you, too. I don’t want to be something you regret.”

 

She smiled and shook her head. “The only thing I regret about this morning is we didn’t have time to do more.” She moved out of his arms and held the door open. “You should consider that the rest of the day.”

 

Sansa had opened the door making it nearly impossible for him to react to what she said. She smiled slyly at him and exited out of her room and waited for him to follow. “Enjoy the rest of _your_ day, my lady.”

 

“And you, Ser Jaime,” she said as she started down the hall and met Brienne as she arrived at the top of the stairs. Brienne cast a look down the hall at Jaime, but she didn’t say anything as she followed Sansa.

 

“You know if you hurt her I’ll kill you,” he heard behind him and turned to see Arya leaning against the door to her own room, her hand resting on the pommel of her sword. “Jon and Brienne will _try_ to kill you. But I’ll be the one to take your life and present your head to Sansa as she requested when you first arrived.”

 

“I have no intention of hurting your sister.”

 

She tilted her head. “Men and their intentions. I’ve seen a lot of it in my rather short life. I don’t trust you. I don’t like you. I think my sister could do better,” she said with a frown and stepped forward menacingly. In the past, with his sword hand, he might have been more confident if he had to face against her. However, he knew that she was far deadlier than her small stature would allow anyone to believe.

 

He frowned. “I want nothing more than for her to never suffer again.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t finished. I don’t like you.”

 

“Yes, you’ve said that,” he replied, his tone aggrieved.

 

“I want to make sure I was clear.” She paused and her eyes seemed to be daring him to say something else, but he remained silent and she continued. “For some reason, she likes you. Should that change, well...you know the outcome,” she said as she walked down the hall and he feared that he might actually be killed by Arya on a whim one day.

 

*~*

 

Jaime had taken off for a ride on his horse, needing time and space to clear his head. His conversation with Sansa had assuaged his fears that he had done something she hadn’t wanted, but now he wondered if the guilt he felt was due to Cersei. He felt his stomach roil at the thought of her, his skin crawl. But even through that, he felt an affection and he hated it. He didn’t know if it was due to their relation or the hold she’d had on him so firmly.

 

When he contemplated all he had given up to remain at her side, he wondered if he would have been so entrenched with her now. Had he done what his father had wanted and married a woman, had children, lived in Casterly Rock, would that have still made him feel tied to Cersei? Would she had still had that control over him? And she had controlled him, but he’d consented to it. He’d gone along with her schemes, even finding himself relishing in quite a bit of it. Part of him did enjoy sneaking around, that it was their secret not to share with the world. But another part of him always felt like he wanted more. There was a point in time where he would have been happy to take her away from King’s Landing, find somewhere comfortable to live and spend their lives alone.

 

That had never been an option. Cersei would never have relinquished her control. He remembered only too well how much she had thrilled at getting the Martells into the dungeon. He was glad for their capture, after all, the hateful women had killed their beautiful Myrcella, an innocent. And for a moment, he’d been able to hold Myrcella in his arms as his daughter and just be her father. It had been perfect and what he hadn’t realized he’d wanted. Had he not joined the King’s Guard, would he have had a daughter that he would have been able to openly claim? Would he have sons that he would have been able to teach to fight with their swords? 

 

He thought of Sansa then and smiled a bit, or even a daughter to teach to use a sword.

 

The temptation of being able to possibly have that now was strong, though he was considerably older. That would be saddling Sansa with an old man. He shook the thought off. He turned the horse back towards Winterfell and came through the gates well after the sun had gone down. He left the horse at the stables and went in search of food only to be stopped by Brienne.

 

“What are you doing out here? Who’s guarding Sansa?”

 

“Podrick is with her while she dines with her brother and sister. A more pressing issue has brought me in search of you.”

 

Jaime heaved a sigh and frowned. “What’s that?”

 

“What are you doing with Sansa?”

 

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you ask your lady?”

 

“I’m asking you. You’re older and you should know better...”

 

“Better than to what?” He snapped. This was the third person to insert their opinion about his relationship with Sansa and he had enough warring thoughts in his head that he didn’t need to add more. “Find something that makes me happy?”

 

“She’s been through a lot, Jaime,” she said, her voice softer, her tone more relaxed.

  
He hissed, “I know that. She’s shown me her scars. She’s told me what she’s comfortable telling me. I care for her.”

 

“What about Cersei?” she asked, defiant in the face of his ire. He admired and hated this about Brienne. She never ceased to call him on the parts of himself that he hated to make him face up to it. She believed in honor and integrity. He always felt he was lacking both. She had been the first person to make him want to be better. Her friendship had been what had helped to guide him on a path of something more. And now, here he stood, in Winterfell, having fought the dead, and arguing with his friend about a relationship with a Stark.

 

“She has nothing to do with how I feel for Sansa,” Jaime admitted and it was true. He didn’t feel the same about Sansa as he did Cersei. They were different women who required different things from him.

 

Brienne frowned. “Do not dishonor Sansa. She’s gone through too much for some of these Lords lurking around to think that she’s been sullied by a Lannister. And yes, it’s meant to be an insult. She may have accepted you, but I assure you, they have not. When you ride south, she’ll have to carry on whether or not you come back. If you don’t, then you don’t want her marred by whatever it is you’re doing.”

 

“I haven’t done anything to Sansa.”

 

Again, Brienne rolled her eyes. “Peddle that to someone who doesn’t spend time with her every day. I saw you this morning coming out of her room...”

 

“We were talking...” which wasn’t technically a lie. At the point she’d seen them, they had just been talking.

 

Brienne frowned. “And your stroll through the Godswood after the wedding? That talking, too?”

 

“I don’t answer to you. I will not apologize for how I feel about her and I won’t allow anyone to make me feel guilty or wrong about it. I care for her, I only want her happiness. Consider that maybe I make her happy.”

 

She straightened. “I’ll consider it. However, if you hurt her, I will kill you.”

 

“You’ll have to get in line. Arya’s already claimed my head to deliver to Sansa should I make her unhappy,” he said as he pushed past her and into the hall. Sansa was seated at the table with Arya, Gendry, Bran, Tyrion, Varys, the Hound, Tormund, and Podrick. She looked up at him with an interested smile and he couldn’t help smile back at her.

 

“Ser Jaime, won’t you join us?” she offered and he ignored the looks he received from Tormund, Tyrion, and Arya. Instead, he nodded and took a seat across from her. Her hands rested on the arms of her chair, but he watched as her nails scraped against the wood. He was given a plate and food upon it and he ate, but he was constantly distracted by her small movements. How she rarely laughed even though others couldn’t contain themselves. Her blue eyes would meet his and he’d feel himself become anxious under her gaze. She was soft with her brother, Bran, even as he whispered a secret into her ear that made her smile and clasp his hand.

 

He felt a foot press against him and it was then he realized it was hers. She only glanced at him before she turned her conversation back to Arya and Gendry as they discussed their impending march to Storm’s End. She couldn’t outright grasp his hand or share secrets with him so openly. Not yet, at least. And it occurred to him then that he wanted the world to know that he wanted her and she wanted him. The ability to possibly be together openly and without fear of retribution did make his heart race. Sansa was the possibility of the future, one he had always convinced himself he hadn’t wanted.

 

Being dangled in front of him, as it was now, full of hope, he nearly forgot about the war to come and the eventual horrors that awaited him in King’s Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the song Poison & Wine by the Civil Wars.


	58. Jon XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Daenerys meet with Robin to get his loyalty, they arrive back in Winterfell with news of their trip, and Sansa drops some truth on her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this chapter. Probably won't be another update until this weekend, but seeing as I have 4 days off I plan to spend most of it writing. If you're in the U.S., Happy Thanksgiving! 
> 
> I plan to do like a soundtrack for each couple when this is all done. Music is so fundamental to me writing. I have playlists for each couple that helps put me into the right headspace for how I see each of them and I hope to share that with you all.
> 
> I also know some of you want me to move the plot along, but I'm telling a story here with characters that are complex, relationships that are even more so, and you simply have to go along with the ride. If you're just here for action sequences and such, you're reading the wrong fic. That doesn't mean they aren't involved in this story, but if that's why you're reading this then I fear by the end you will be sorely disappointed if you aren't already. Those that are still reading, thank you. Even if you get frustrated with the story, I still thank you for the time you take to explore this world with me.
> 
> Also, one last note, my uncle is doing better and he will hopefully be going home today. Thank you for all the kind comments and well wishes. You guys are amazing in your support. Writing is a type of therapy for me, so thank you all for going along on this little adventure with me to help quiet the craziness inside my head.

**JON**

 

Young Robin, or as he was otherwise known, Sweet Robin, favored Catelyn. At least around his eyes. He could almost see a resemblance to Arya and it amused him to think of what her reaction to that statement would be. Robin’s guard still stayed close behind him even as he stared in fascination at the great dragon behind them.

 

As for Rhaegal, he was staying low to the ground, his head twisting about, watching for an attack. Daenerys stepped closer to Robin and she spoke softly, almost mothering in her tone. “We have come to request the aid of your Knights. Lord Royce has led your men valiantly both against the Boltons and against the dead army we defeated a few short months ago. You could ask for no more loyal man to be on your council.”

 

Robin looked at her and frowned. “He was there with they killed Lord Baelish. How loyal could he be?”

 

Jon stepped forward then. “My Lord, Lord Baelish was a deceitful and manipulative man. It came to light that he pushed your mother from the Moon Door. Sansa, fearing for her own safety with him around, lied to protect him. She sends her deepest apologies that she did not tell you, but she feared him. He also orchestrated the capture of my father, Ned Stark. I realize that the loss of him is great to you, but how many other people are now spared the loss of their families?”

 

Robin seemed to contemplate this. “Lord Royce sent this all in a letter to me. I would have liked to have had him here to issue justice the way the Eyrie does.”

 

“I am sorry for your loss, my Lord,” Daenerys said and looked around at the people who still cowered at the great dragon. “I realize our appearance here is a great surprise. But we felt it was important to meet you in person. Sansa speaks very highly of you.”

 

“She does?” he questioned.

 

She nodded. “You’re a person who takes the position he’s in seriously. Which is why we came to speak to you.”

 

“Or did you come because Lord Royce won’t do as you want?” he asked.

 

Jon looked at Daenerys and nodded. “Both. We need your help against Cersei. The Lannisters have caused destruction ever since Joffrey came into power.”

 

Robin frowned. “They have. How would you be different?”

 

Daenerys folded her hands in front of her and tilted her head slightly. “We hope to give everyone a voice. Every lord and lady, every peasant, they would all have a platform in which to be represented. When we defeat Cersei, we will greatly reward those who helped us. Your sacrifices during the wars will not be forgotten.”

 

Robin stepped up to them and Rhaegal lowered his head and growled at him, but the young boy didn’t back away. “Your dragon? What’s his name?”

“Rhaegal,” she said as they all turned their attention to the great beast. She extended her hand and touched him gently on the snout. “Would you like to touch him?” she questioned. Robin’s eyes widened and one of the guards harrumphed behind him, but he ignored them. He stepped forward quickly towards Daenerys. “Gently, my lord,” she said as she took his hand in hers and stroked it over his nose. Jon watched with interest as the young boy smoothed his hand over the beast.

 

“He’s green,” he said he looked up at Daenerys. “That’s my favorite color,” he said softly.

 

She smiled. “I also have a large black dragon named Drogon. The winged shadow.”

 

“You didn’t bring him?”

 

She chuckled and shook her head. “I’m afraid Drogon is not as friendly as Rhaegal. He’d be more likely to eat you,” she said honestly.

 

“You’re lucky, my Lord. Very few people have touched either of the dragons and lived to tell the tale,” Jon added.

 

“I think we can do better than allowing you to touch the dragon. Would you like to fly?” she questioned.

 

He looked up at her hopefully. “Really?”

 

She nodded. “I’ll be with you,” she said softly and looked at Jon who frowned. “Can we have your assurance that Jon will be safe here in your courtyard?”

 

Robin looked around at the people on the ground. “Anyone who touches the King in the North will fly through the Moon Door,” he said and then looked at Daenerys expectantly. Rhaegal lowered his wing to allow them to step onto his back. She was situated first, then helped Robin sit in front of her. Jon patted Rhaegal on the side and he shared a secret look with Daenerys praying that she was careful.  

 

Jon then stepped back and looked around at the people assembled. “I would suggest you all back up. The force of his wings will send you to the ground,” he said as he stepped back to the wall and watched as the guards did the same. Rhaegal flapped his great wings and slowly rose into the air and he could see Robin’s smile. He truly hoped this worked. As they made it into the air, Jon moved out to the center to watch them, the green dragon circling around the castle, its people peering up in interest. He could see Rhaegal dip and rise, the spread of his wings then soaring through the air. He then descended quickly over the rocky crag beneath them before straightening out his flight and flapping to ascend into the air again.

 

Jon took that moment to look around at the few guards that were standing around, equally amazed at the sight of the dragon soaring. When they finally came back to land, a stern woman had exited the keep and stared in horror at the sight in front of them. Jon stepped forward and Robin slid to the ground, exuberant at what had just happened. Jon extended a hand to Daenerys as she stepped from Rhaegal’s wing.

 

“Did you see me fly on the dragon?” he questioned one of the guards who gave him a smile, but still looked at Jon and Daenerys warily.

 

“When we take the Iron Throne, I will come back and allow you to ride him again,” Daenerys said with a smile. “However, that can only happen if we have your support.”

 

Robin nodded. “What do you need from me?”

 

Jon looked at him gravely. “We need your men to help us against Cersei. Lord Royce is planning to leave the North. We need you to write him a letter pledging your men to our cause.”

 

Daenerys tilted her head. “Declare us your King and Queen. Bend the knee.”

 

Robin looked around at his people, several of whom looked unhappy with these turn of events, but Jon doubted seriously that he would refuse. “And if I don’t?”

 

Daenerys looked at him seriously, a frown on her face, her voice lowering. “You’re smarter than that, Robin. I’ve already proven that I can infiltrate your courtyard with one dragon. I would rather not have you as my enemy. Bend the knee, swear your men to our cause, and we will reward you for your support.”

 

He glanced at the people standing around and then nodded. The older woman stepped up. “My lord, a word?”

 

Robin rolled his eyes but followed her to the side. Jon stood beside Daenerys, his hand constantly on the pommel of his sword. “Do you think this is actually going to work?”

 

“I think it was working before she showed up,” Daenerys said softly.

 

Robin then rejoined them and sighed. “My counsel has agreed with your proposal with two conditions.”

 

Daenerys tilted her head but Jon spoke. “Which are?”

 

“Name me as Warden of the East and I need at least two hundred of my men here to help guard our keep in case the Lannisters decide to attack us for aiding you before your army can get south.”

 

Jon thought that was reasonable, but he couldn’t tell if Daenerys agreed. She looked at him then and he gave him an imperceptible nod. She turned to Robin and nodded. “I have a condition of my own. You are named warden _after_ we take the Iron Throne.”

 

He looked at the woman over his shoulder and she nodded at him. Robin then withdrew the sword at his side and knelt before Jon and Daenerys. “I, Robin of House Arryn, bend the knee to the rightful King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, King Aegon Targaryen and Queen Daenerys Targaryen.”

 

Part of Jon was stunned that this had actually worked. When Robin stood once more, he resheathed his sword and he ushered them to follow them inside. She stroked Rhaegal’s neck. “If you hear me scream, burn the place to the ground,” she whispered to the dragon who nudged her affectionately, and Jon walked in beside her, his hand never leaving the hilt of Longclaw.

 

*~*

 

Less than an hour had passed and Jon had the sealed letter from Robin for Lord Royce in his hands. He’d watched him pen it himself, near enough to the table to make sure they weren’t being double-crossed. He trusted people even less now than he did in the past. But Robin had kept his word and Jon had given Daenerys a slight smile as she had stood and spoken with Robin’s caretaker. Once they reached Winterfell, they would dispatch the two-hundred men that had been requested to protect the keep.

 

He tucked the letter into his glove, making sure that the seal remained pristine. He escorted Daenerys out to the courtyard once more and they both turned to Robin. “Once the war is won, you’ll come to King’s Landing and we’ll officially name you as Warden. Thank you for your cooperation.”

 

“And another ride on the dragon,” he reminded.

 

She smiled. “Yes. Another,” she said as she turned to Jon and they mounted onto Rhaegal’s back. People stood back to allow them to rise into the air and take off towards the North once more. Daenerys squeezed him a bit tighter and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “It worked,” she said into his ear.

 

Jon smiled as they soared over the land, relieved that at least something actually went as planned.

 

*~*

 

Hours later, they were in the same clearing they’d been the night before. The ground where Rhaegal had slept had a minimal amount of snow and the dragon settled down once more. Jon could see that Daenerys was exhausted and he quickly gathered wood and had Rhaegal light it before they both settled down beside Rhaegal. “Are you feeling well?”

 

She heaved a sigh and rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m tired is all. It will be nice to sleep in our bed tomorrow.”

 

“How do you think Lord Royce will react to what we’ve done?”

 

“I hope that by us naming Robin as the Warden and allowing troops to go home to protect their keep that it could persuade him that what we did wasn’t the nefarious act it could be seen as. But he left us little to no choice in the matter. And your plan worked out beautifully.” She tilted her head against his. “I know how you hate that your actual name is Aegon Targaryen, but I actually like it. It makes me feel less alone.”

 

He kissed the top of her head and held her tighter. “You’re not alone. You’ve got me.”

 

She smiled. “I do. My blood,” she said as she closed her eyes. “You’ve also got me,” she took his hand in hers and placed it over her belly. “Us.”

 

“I love you,” he said softly against her cheek.

 

“I love you, Jon Snow. More than you even know.”

 

*~*

 

They soared over Winterfell and came to rest in the spot that the dragons had claimed as theirs. Drogon had rushed to them. Daenerys had nearly been knocked off her feet at his exuberance. Jon was glad he’d been close enough to keep her from falling backward into the snow.

 

“Easy my love,” she whispered to the dragon as he nudged her. Even Jon reached out a hand to the black dragon and stroked over his snout, which he allowed and seemed to relish as much as the touch from Daenerys.  She smiled over at Jon. “I must admit something to you, Jon.”

 

He looked at her interestedly. “What’s that?”

 

“I know who you are, where you come from. There so much about you that is Northron, which I thought I would hate because of the things Viserys had told me about the people of the North. I actually find some of your Northronness to be charming,” she said as she turned and faced him. “But there’s something that makes me feel like home when it’s us and them, and the beautiful Ghost. The way they react to you,” she said as she looked at Drogon and Rhaegal who were both watching them carefully, “it makes me feel less alone. I know you’re a Targaryen. I know part of you is uncomfortable with that...”

 

“It’s not that I’m a Targaryen, Daenerys. It’s knowing that everything I believed my life had been a lie. That’s what bothers me about it, truly. I know why all of it happened the way it did,” he brushed his fingers along her cheek and placed a kiss on her nose. “You’re my home,” he whispered. “I love Winterfell. But I’ve only ever truly felt like I belonged when we’re together. Whether that’s fighting side by side or making difficult decisions or simply just being in your presence...you’re my home.”

 

She blinked several times and he could see she was fighting off tears. “Don’t you dare make me cry,” she said with a slight laugh.

 

“No tears. We’re going to walk into the keep, side by side, and we’re going to show to what lengths we’re prepared to go to protect this world.”

 

She took a deep breath and he could see she was steeling herself. She closed her eyes and when she opened them again, her cool countenance was once more in place. “I’m at your side, my king,” she said with a nod.

 

“And I yours, my queen.”

 

They were met by Unsullied guards who followed them into the keep. He saw Arya sparring with Brienne, Podrick speaking with the Hound and Gendry, and Jaime speaking with Sansa. He was glad she was no longer asking for Jaime to be killed. Progress was being made. However, she spotted them and quickly abandoned her conversation with Jaime to fall into step beside them. “Bran says things went well.”

 

“They did,” Jon answered. “Summon Lord Royce to the hall.”

 

“Allow me to change first?”

 

“Of course. Daenerys and I are going to break our fast.”

 

“Sansa,” Daenerys added before she could walk away, “would you please have Arya, Gendry, Jaime, Brienne, The Hound, Tales, Missandei, Varys, Tyrion, and Davos join us as well. Also, Lord Glover and Lady Mormont if they are still here. Before Lord Royce is summoned,” Daenerys said softly. “We need to make this as official as we can. And we need important witnesses.” She gave a nod and then walked back to the group she’d just abandoned. “I like your sisters,” she said softly. “They’re both fierce women.”

 

“They are. They take after their mother.”

 

“The woman who was cruel to you?” her tone took a harsh tone and he looked at her affectionately. “I know I shouldn’t dislike her as she didn’t have all the information about you, but I do.”

 

He smirked. “Your loyalty to me is both a beautiful and terrifying thing to behold.”

 

She smiled up at him. “People should be afraid of me when it comes to you,” she admitted. Jon waited until they were tucked into the empty hall and pulled her into his arms to kiss her. “Perhaps we should take our food to our room.”

 

He shook his head, his hands skimming along her ribs up to her breasts beneath her cloak. “I’ll not let you leave if we do that,” he answered.

 

Jon pulled away from her, knowing that if he lingered too long that it wouldn’t matter the location, he would have his _wife_ beneath him moaning his name. She moved to stand before the fire as he called for food to be brought to them, requesting that meat is left from the tray. He removed his gloves and sat in his chair as the door opened and servants began placing goblets, wine, tea, plates, bread, fruits, and a soup in front of them.

 

Jon was somewhat amazed how quickly Daenerys ate down the soup and bread, never losing her pretty manners, but hardly taking a breath between bites. They were soon joined by Davos and Tyrion who sat across the table from them and Jon removed the letter with the Arryn seal stamped on it.

 

Davos smiled. “Well done.”

 

Tyrion tilted his head. “I’m glad you’re both back in one piece.”

 

“You doubted us?” Daenerys asked.

 

“I don’t doubt your ability to accomplish what you hope, however, I also know the treacheries of what lay before us. You can not underestimate my sister.”

 

Jon frowned. “Do think either of us is doing that? Do you think I don’t realize your sister may be more destructive than the dead because she’s able to reason and still thinks what she’s doing is right?” He scowled at Tyrion. “It’s personal for you. It is for me as well. She tried to kill my entire family. My wife. I don’t take that lightly, Tyrion, and I would appreciate it if you stopped assuming that I do.”

 

“Flying off to the Eyrie, while brilliant strategically, was also dangerous and maybe not a risk to have been taken,” he interjected. “What if Robin had decided to pitch one of you through the moon door? Or his men had attacked instead of allowing you to land?” he questioned. “Had you thought of any of that?”

 

He felt Daenerys’s hand on his to soothe his temper. “We need the Eyrie.”

 

“And what did you give in return? If he has half a brain in his skull he wouldn’t have agreed to what you were asking without something in return.”

Daenerys nodded. “When we take the throne, he will be the Warden of the East. We’re also going to send two hundred of his men south, tomorrow, to help protect the keep should Cersei decide to send her troops to attack it before we start south.”

 

“So, we’ve only gained a portion of the army and you’ve named a Warden without speaking to either of your Hands about doing such?” Tyrion questioned.

 

Jon frowned. “What bothers you more, Tyrion? That we gave away power or didn’t consult you about it first?”

  
“First? What about at all? Davos and I are meant to be your most trusted advisors, yet you didn’t consult either of us about naming a warden or sending a force of men away. Why do you need us if you’re only looking to each other?”

 

Daenerys tilted her head and frowned. “Jon is my husband and the king I chose. You are my Hand. I chose you, as well. I trust your opinion. However, in this instance, we had to make a quick decision and made the one we thought would help us. If you disagree with what we did, then you’ll simply have to work through that on your own. It’s done. It’s signed and sealed and soon to be delivered.”

 

Davos frowned and looked at Tyrion. “We’ll figure out a plan of action. We now have more men than we did two days ago. We can work with that.”

 

Jon could tell he wasn’t placated, but he wasn’t sure what else could be done. They’d already made the agreement with Robin and he was actually willing to give his men to the cause. Jon drank down the wine in his goblet and looked to Daenerys who sipped at her tea.

 

“You and I will speak later, Tyrion,” she said softly. Her tone wasn’t harsh or angry and maybe it was that she knew better how to handle him. But right now, Jon didn’t care how he had reacted to either of them.

 

*~*

 

Jon and Daenerys stood beside one another, her braids had been repaired by Missandei, thankfully, and she didn’t look as wind-blown as she was. Several Unsullied warriors lined the left wall and the Dothraki the right. Jaime, Sandor, and Tormund stood to the left with Gendry, Lord Glover and Lady Mormont to the right. Missandei, Tales, and Tyrion comprised the group to Daenery’s right. On Jon’s left were Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Davos. He could feel a nervous ball settle into his stomach as he couldn’t imagine how Lord Royce would react.

 

He was escorted into the room by a guard, two of his own men at his side as he looked around the room. His eyes immediately went to Sansa who stood stoically at Jon’s side. “Welcome, my lord. I thought we should meet again before your departure.”

 

“And is this meant to be a farewell or my execution?”

 

Daenerys stepped forward then as well. “You’re not able to help us if you’re dead.”

 

He steeled himself at this. “As I’ve told the King in the North, the Eyrie will be staying out of this fight.”

 

Jon shook his head and held out the letter, allowing Lord Royce to see the seal. “I’m afraid you won’t.”

 

Lord Royce took the letter from him and tore through the seal, then glared up at Jon. “You had Robin Arryn bend the knee? He’s a boy.”

 

“He’s of age to make choices on his own,” Daenerys assured.

 

“How did this agreement between you come about? Have you been in contact with him all this time?”

 

Jon frowned. “We only just met him yesterday. He agreed to bend the knee after we agreed to make him Warden of the East and to send two hundred of your troops to protect the Eyrie should Cersei decide to attack before we manage to begin making our way south.”

 

“You flew there?” he questioned and then looked at Sansa. “You knew this?”

 

Daenerys scowled. “Who knew what is of little consequence, my lord. _Your_ Lord has dedicated himself to our side, to aid us. Seeing as you are a man of honor, I can only hope you will hold to his word.”

 

“Or what? You’ll feed me to your dragons? Burn me alive?” He challenged as he looked at her and Jon felt his own ire rise as the disrespectful tone he once more took towards Daenerys.

 

“No. In the North, we behead deserters,” Jon responded. “I would consider that as such.”

 

Lord Royce seemed conflicted but then sighed. “I will do as my Lord bids. I request you allow me to be one of the two hundred to return to the Eyrie. I can follow my Lord’s command, but I still do not have the heart to fight for the two of you.”

 

Tyrion stepped forward and gained Daenerys’s attention and whispered to her something that Jon could not hear. But she straightened and looked at Lord Royce. “Very well, my Lord. You will be permitted to return. I trust that you will name a commander of the forces you leave who is more open to Targaryens on the Iron Throne.”

 

Jon actually found that to be a reasonable request. He wondered if the lord would take it. He cast one more look at Sansa then nodded. “Am I permitted to leave?”

 

Jon nodded and Lord Royce swept from the room. “Perhaps threatening to behead him was a bit much,” Davos suggested.

 

He clenched his fists at his side. He hated the thought of someone speaking to Daenerys in such a way. Jon was well aware of Royce’s feelings about the queen, but he wouldn’t allow her to be disrespected again.

 

“King Jon was right,” Lord Glover spoke, defending Jon. “Had he decided to abandon his Lord's word, then Northron justice should have been carried out. It’s what Ned Stark would have done.”

 

He had a thought that he wanted to share with Daenerys, Tyrion, and Davos before he spoke it to anyone else. Possibly Arya and Gendry. “Thank you all for attending. I wanted witnesses as to what we agreed upon with Lord Robin and the agreement made between us and Lord Royce.”

 

Tormund left the room with Podrick, Sandor, and Gendry, the latter’s hammer in the Wildling’s hand. Lyanna spoke with Arya about her sword and they soon left the room together. Brienne remained with Sansa who stared at him and the feel of her blue eyes on him caused him a great sense of unease. She finally stepped forward and spoke to him. “We need to speak in private,” she said firmly and Jon wondered what he was about to be told that couldn’t be said in front of others.

 

However, Jon nodded and looked at Daenerys. “I’ll be back shortly.”

 

His wife nodded and shared a glance with Tyrion, which also made him uneasy. He didn’t know what was happening but he felt like he might be the last person to know and _that_ he hated. They found their way to Jon’s study, at least until he went South with Daenerys. Then it would be Sansa’s as she would officially be the Lady of Winterfell.

 

She closed the door behind them as he removed his cloak and hung it over the back of a chair followed by his gloves. He felt like none of this was going to be good news. “What don’t I know that is being kept a secret from me?”

 

She frowned and sat in one of the high-backed chairs. “It’s not been kept a secret because I didn’t want you to know. It was simply new and before I had the opportunity to truly talk to you about it, you had flown off to the Eyrie.”

 

He tilted his head and sat across from her. “But Daenerys and Tyrion know?”

 

She nodded. “Daenerys knows because I was rather distressed about this particular issue and she gave me some advice, which I needed. Arya knows because she’s become my confidant. And Tyrion knows because of the other person involved.”

 

He furrowed his brow. “Jaime?”

 

She nodded again. “I’m not exactly sure how it’s happened. You know I hated him. I asked you to kill him, more than once. I kept finding myself having conversations with him, and they weren’t pleasant, but I was able to vent so much of my frustration out onto him and while he argued a bit, he mostly took it and admitted his role in a lot of horrible things,” she said with a sigh and then looked at her hands. “The night I was attacked by my handmaid, I had run to Jaime because I knew where he was. We’d been arguing, again, and he came to my aid. Seeing as how I treated him, he didn’t have to help me. He chose to.”

 

He held up a hand and stopped her. “Sansa, is this going to be a tale of how it is you’ve become entangled with Jaime Lannister?”

 

Her eyes widened and then she nodded. “Yes,” she finally whispered.

 

Jon felt his hands clench into fists and he shook his head. “I’ll kill him.”

 

“No, you won’t,” she said firmly. “I trust him. More importantly, I like him. I like being around him and talking to him. He makes me laugh, Jon, and I don’t do that nearly as much as I used to.”

 

“He’s a Lannister. He’s been carrying on an affair with his sister for...who knows how long! He pushed Bran out of a window and nearly killed him. You know all of this! Why am I having to inform you of the things he’s done that make him unworthy of you?”

 

Sansa remained calm despite the fact that Jon felt like leaving the room, finding Jaime, and running him through with Longclaw. “I wasn’t asking for your permission. And I don’t need it.” Jon clenched his jaw as she continued. “Your duty as my brother is to love and support me. I only need that from you. Nothing else. I care for him. He cares for me. He respects me and what I’ve been through, but he doesn’t treat me as if I’m a wilting flower. I like that about him.”

 

“Sansa...his family...”

  
“I know who and what Jaime is, probably better than anyone. I know what he’s done. I know all of it. I once used all of that against him. But the important part is, Jon, I don’t want to anymore. I feel differently about all of it. For so long, the only thing that made me happy was thinking about how Ramsay died. It was the only thing that could give me peace...”

  
“And Jaime gives you peace?”

 

She shook her head and frowned. “No, not exactly. I’m finding it on my own. Which makes me want to know him more.”

 

He shook his head and stared at her. “You want love and support. What does that mean? Sit idly by while he breaks your heart? And then I get to kill him, right?”

 

She smirked and shook her head. “Jaime claims that Arya’s called the right to kill him should he step out of bounds.” Jon closed his eyes, finding none of this funny. He then felt Sansa’s hand on his. “You have to know me well enough to believe that I’ve thought of every reason why _not_ to feel this way for him. I know how ridiculous it all seems. But I never thought I could get to the point where I could trust someone, Jon.”

 

“You don’t trust your family?”

 

She furrowed her brow and her cheeks flushed. “I do. Completely. But that’s not what I meant,” she said softly.

 

The thought that suddenly hit him caused him to stand suddenly. “Sansa...” He tried to calm his swirling mind as she stood between him and the door. He knew if he wanted, he could push her aside and make it down to the courtyard to find and kill him before she could arrive at the scene. Instead, he looked at her. Her eyes were practically pleading with him to remain calm and to listen. People knew and no one had stopped this. Why was he the only one who saw the reasons for this relationship not to happen? He didn’t say any of that, though. She’d been through so much, the part of him that understood what she’d gone through, even what Daenerys had gone through, questioned how he could want to keep her from something that made her happy. He closed his eyes and reigned in his temper. “I don’t want details,” he said firmly. “But I do want to know if he’s...been respectful?”

 

She smiled shakily and then nodded. “He’d be dead if he hadn’t been.”

 

“Should that change...”

 

“Arya will kill him and let you see his head,” she said with a small smile.

 

He frowned and stepped closer to her to take her hands. “No one could ever be worthy of you. I don’t care what Jaime Lannister has done or said, he doesn’t deserve to lick the mud from your boots,” he could see she was going to protest but his look stopped her from speaking. “However, I would rather give up my life than to see you anything less than happy. If...and I can’t believe these words are going to leave my lips, if he makes you happy, however, I will swallow the urge to kill him and let him continue to make you so.”

 

She took a deep breath in relief. “Thank you.”

 

He shook his head. “Don’t thank me. It only makes me feel dirty about this,” he grumbled. “How long has this been happening?”

 

“Before the assassin’s attack,” she answered, though he could see how she hesitated with her answer. If she didn’t want to tell him the truth, he’d allow her only a little slack in the rope. “Same night, actually.”

 

“And what are his intentions?”

 

“To ride South with you and Daenerys.”

 

He shook his head. “Not what I meant. Does he intend to marry you? Court you openly? Declare for you?”

 

She heaved a sigh and shook her head. “I don’t know.”

 

“Then I shall ask him,” he said as he lifted his gloves and she put her hands over his.

 

“Please. As my brother who saw how I suffered. Who saw how I feared Ramsay. Please leave this alone and trust me to handle it.”

 

“If his intention is to bed you and leave, I’d like to be there and watch as Arya kills him.”

 

She shook her head. “He's not bedded me,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Trust me to know what I’m doing.”

 

“I do. It’s him I don’t trust.”

 

She nodded. “Then put all of your trust in me regarding this matter. He means very much to me, Jon. Respect that.”

 

His shoulders sagged and he hung his head. “I will. Are you intending to...make this public?”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know what I want, yet. I simply know that I want to be with him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the song "Hearing" by Sleeping At Last.


	59. Arya X

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans advance, family dinner, and an inventive way to teach Gendry to read...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...they can't all stay there forever. Eventually, someone has to leave.
> 
> Also, I don't know WHERE the end of this chapter came from as in my outline it just has "Arya teaches Gendry to read" but I didn't specify how that would happen, but here ya go.
> 
> FULL DISCLOSURE: I have been drinking which could explain the time for this update!

 

She found Gendry fighting against Tormund, the Wildling using his axe against Gendry’s hammer. Gendry was quicker, but the force behind Tormund’s swings actually worried Arya what would happen if he made contact with any part of Gendry. She’d have to kill the wildling and explain to Jon why. She knew her brother would be unhappy with that. She cleared her voice and Gendry ducked just in time so Tormund didn’t take his head off with his axe. The ginger man turned to see her and he scowled at Gendry.  “I told you she’d be angry.”

 

She shook her head. “I’m not angry. I just don’t want you to sever a limb or his head and then I’ll have to kill you and explain it to Jon. It’s really to save me all that headache,” she said with a sweet smile that was anything but sweet.

 

The Wildling stepped up to her. “I like you. But don’t think that I’d just let you kill me.”

 

She chuckled. “I hope you’d fight just a little.”

 

“Tormund, stop provoking Arya,” Brienne said with a roll of her eyes as she approached.

 

He scowled. “But it’s fun. None of you know how to have fun.”

 

“There’s more to life than fighting,” Brienne said calmly.

 

The scowl turned into a wicked smile. “Aye. There is, _my lady_.”

 

Arya watched as Brienne blushed but she turned her attention to her instead of addressing the Wildling. “Your brother has requested that you and Lord Gendry join him in his study.”

 

“Why are you carrying the message?”

 

“She longs to be in my presence,” Tormund said as he leaned against his axe. Brienne turned her attention to him and kicked his axe from beneath his hand and he nearly fell.

 

Gendry and Arya left Brienne and Tormund as they squabbled, Arya looking back to see Tormund grab his axe from the ground and square off against his lady love.

 

She found Jon, Daenerys, Davos, Tyrion, Missandei, Varys, and Sansa all waiting for them. Sansa looked less than thrilled, but even Jon’s normally dour expression seemed more grave.

 

Gendry shut the door behind them and Jon sighed. “We need you two to be ready to leave tomorrow.”

 

“Tomorrow?” Arya asked, looking at everyone in the room. “Why tomorrow?”

 

“We want you South before we start marching. Once you get to the Twins, we’ll be leaving and we’ll draw the attention.”

 

“And what sort of force are we going to Storm’s End with?”

 

“You’ll have Stark soldiers. Good warriors.”

 

She furrowed her brow. “I’m not ready to leave.”

 

Jon stood then and frowned. “I’m not ready to let you go,” he said softly. “But we’re going to try to keep you safe on your journey, and we need you to get to Storm’s End before we get to King’s Landing. We have to cut off her ability to run anywhere. Casterly Rock is not an option. It’s too far. But she could get to Storm’s End, and we need to establish Gendry there as the Lord and you the Lady.”

 

She knew that Gendry could see she was about to argue, but his gentle hand at her elbow silenced her protest. She looked up at him and frowned. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She wasn’t ready to leave her home after it had taken her so long to get there. She thought she would have more time. She felt Gendry’s thumb stroke over her arm, remembering that he was her family, too. He’d been asked to go, to take his place, and she’d sworn that she would stay at his side.

 

Arya nodded and looked back at Jon. “Fine. We’ll depart in the morning,” she said softly.

 

Jon looked down for a moment and then at the two of them. “We’ll dine together tonight. One more meal as a complete family.”

 

*~*

 

Arya had a trunk open at the end of the bed and was shoveling clothes into it with no order or tidiness. When she threw in her fur-lined boots, she felt Gendry’s hand closed over her wrist and she stood staring at the trunk. They were both silent and she stepped away from it and into his arms. She closed her eyes as she rested her cheek over his heart and felt his arms squeeze her a bit tighter.

 

“I’m not ready to leave either,” he said finally and she pulled away to look up at him.

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

He released her and took her hand as he pulled her to sit on the edge of the bed. “We knew we would leave, eventually. While I don’t want to, part of me is ready to get on with it. Cersei needs to be gone so Jon and Daenerys can start building their new world. We need to go to start our lives as well.

 

She shook her head. “We fought so hard to get here. Just what you and I survived alone...”

 

He nodded. “I know. But we found one another. That, to me, is the important part. You told me once that you could be my family. That means I’m yours, too.”

 

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “I don’t like this. You having to reassure me of things.”

 

He snorted. “Neither do I. I need things back to normal where you call me stupid and throw things at me. Or shove me,” he said as he pressed his lips against her hair. “You know, the things that Arya Stark did to Gendry Waters.”

 

“You’re a Baratheon, now.”

 

He released a low sound in his throat. “Do you love me less?”

 

“You’re so stupid.”

 

She felt him smile. “That’s more like the Arya I love.”

 

*~*

 

Arya picked at her food and noticed that Gendry was doing the same thing. She was seated across from Jon and Sansa. She was amused that Sansa had _insisted_ that Jaime join them and both he and Jon looked very uncomfortable with the situation while Sansa ignored the tension. She admired her sister’s push. She also noticed that Jon hadn’t said more than a few words to Daenerys who scowled at him through most of the dinner. She didn’t know what was happening there, but she was sure that when they finally hashed it out that they would be lucky if the stones of Winterfell still stood. She knew how stubborn her brother was, she’d also grown to see how stubborn Daenerys could be.

 

“What’s Storm’s End like?” Gendry finally asked.

 

Tyrion spoke then. “It’s a large fortress that sits on the edge of the sea. There are very few outlying buildings from the main keep because it’s constantly battered by storms.”

 

“So, if it’s storming, how are we to get inside?” Arya questioned.

 

Bran spoke then. “Ser Gilbert Farring is the castellan of Storm’s End. He knows who you are and is waiting for your march south. He still supports House Baratheon.”

 

“So, Cersei couldn’t run there anyway,” Arya said to the group, hoping that it would change their mind about their departure tomorrow.

 

“Hard to deny someone with an army coming to seek refuge who calls herself queen,” Daenerys said softly.

 

Tyrion nodded and sipped his wine. “Thank the Gods for that.”

 

Daenerys looked over at him briefly, a small smile on her face, and then glanced at Jon. Her husband did not return her gaze but stared miserably at his plate before he spoke, “Arya, I don’t want you to leave any more than you do. But you know why we’re asking.”

  
“You didn’t ask,” she responded.

 

Daenerys sighed. “You’re right. We didn’t ask. It’s easy to forget, sometimes, that all of this requires cooperation from all parties. It’s the only way we’ll succeed. With that in mind, knowing how it pains you to do so, would you go south to Storm’s End? Will you help Gendry take his place as Lord?”

 

She looked at Gendry who leaned back in his chair, an expectant look on his face. She knew it was her decision but there wasn’t really one to be made. She was going to be wherever Gendry was, and he would do his duty and go where his king and queen asked. “I suppose since we’re packed,” she said finally and slid her hand around his bicep and then his other hand covered hers. She looked at Sansa and smiled. “Do you remember when Robert first came to Winterfell, during the feast, when I flicked food at you?”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Yes. How could I forget? I thought I would die of shame.”

 

Arya chuckled. “Robb made me leave the hall.”

 

“Mother made him,” Bran chimed.

 

“You were such a difficult child,” Sansa said before she took a sip of her wine.

 

“Are we limiting her being difficult to _just_ childhood?” Gendry asked. “Because I have some stories.”

 

“You shut up,” she said as she looked over at him.

 

Sansa, however, looked interested. “No, don’t shut up. Arya doesn’t tell us what all happened on her road North. You spent a good deal of time together. What can you tell us?”

 

“The first time I saw your sister, she had Needle pointed at two boys, Hot Pie and Lommy, as they had threatened to take it from her. She was posing as a boy, of course, but she stood her ground and had them back up. They didn’t try that again.

 

  
“No, because then _you_ threatened them.”

 

He shrugged. “They were picking on someone smaller than them. Everyone has someone bigger than they are.”

 

“Gendry was the first to figure out that I was a girl.”

 

“How did you figure it out?” Jon questioned.

 

“Little things. When you’re in a group of men, they’ll just...” he faltered as he looked at Daenerys, Sansa, and then Arya, seemingly weighing what words to use, “take a piss anywhere. She always ran off into the woods. That was a clue. She has soft features, too.”

 

“I do not.”

 

He smiled at her. “You do. Compared to the lot we were traveling with...”

 

“Right. Compared to them, I’m Sansa.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. “What else did she do to prove how stubborn she was?”

 

“Her size didn’t matter. Arya was ready to fight anyone. When we were taken to Harrenhal, she was Tywin’s cupbearer for a while.”

 

Tyrion and Jaime both sat up at this. “You were?”

 

Gendry, however, answered before she could. “We’d all been taken by some of Tywin’s men. Rounded up and ready to be tortured. They were trying to find the Brotherhood, which we had yet to meet. Tywin walked in, kept me from being tortured, pegged her as a girl right away, and he made her his cupbearer because he thought her disguise as a boy was smart.”

 

Everyone in the room was staring at her, now. “He never figured out who you were,” Tyrion said, a look of amazement on his face.

 

She shook her head and shrugged. “I think he knew I wasn’t low born but he never knew I was Arya Stark. I hated him. But he was never cruel to me. In fact, he sometimes made sure I ate. I thought my cover was blown when Lord Baelish arrived.”

 

Tyrion shook his head. “Littlefinger never did miss an opportunity to play all areas of the board.”

 

“In the end, he got played,” Sansa responded and shared a look with Arya. It had been a moment long in the making when Baelish paid for all he had destroyed. She noticed Jaime nudge Sansa with his elbow and a look was exchanged between the two, but Arya didn’t mention it or ask.

 

“What about your time with the Brotherhood?” Sansa spoke, turning her attention away from Jaime.

 

She heaved a sigh. “Everything was going perfectly fine until the Hound was brought in and named me. Then they wouldn’t let me go. They were going to take me to Robb, whether I wanted to go or not.”

 

“Why didn’t you want to go?” Daenerys asked.

 

She glanced at Gendry. “I had reasons. I mean, I wanted to see him again. Him and Mother. But I had things I wanted to do that I didn’t think I would get to do if I was with them.”

 

“What things?” Jon asked.

 

“Kill Joffrey and Cersei.”

 

Tyrion smirked. “My dear girl, I would have loved to watch you accomplish those goals.”

 

“Instead,” she continued, “the Brotherhood sold Gendry to the Red Witch,  and along with him any loyalty I could have had to them, so I ran.”

 

“That’s when the Hound grabbed you?” Jon asked.

 

She nodded. “He was such pleasant company.” There were several short laughs around the table. “He helped me get my sword back and kept me from being killed at the Twins. I saw what they did to Robb’s body. When I killed the man who did it the Hound killed the rest of the men that were with him. He then decided to try to ransom me to Aunt Lyssa. We got there three days after she had died. At that point, it was just funny,” she said with a small smile. “And then we met Brienne.”

 

“She defeated him,” Tyrion said. “You saw the fight?”

 

“I did. It was something to watch. I’d never seen a woman fight like her. When she defeated him, she and Pod looked for me, but I wasn’t going to go with her. I had something else I needed to do. He was still alive at the bottom of the cliff and I thought about killing him to put him out of his misery. But I realized I didn’t want him to die, and if he did, I wouldn’t be the one to do it.”

 

Daenerys smiled sadly at her. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? That there could be a point in time in which you wouldn’t wish for the death of someone you were certain you wanted dead? It sort of tilts your world.”

 

“And who would that be for you, your grace?” Tyrion asked.

 

“You. And your brother,” she said as she lifted her goblet to sip her wine.

 

“To be fair, I wanted your death, too,” Jaime said. “Actively tried to achieve it.”

 

“And you were almost burned alive. Seems a fool’s errand now, doesn’t it?” Tyrion asked.

 

“Most of it does,” he said as he flexed the fingers on his left hand.

 

Arya chuckled. “This is the most bizarre group of people I’ve ever seen." She sat back in her seat as everyone turned their attention to her instead of the strange tension that had once more built into the room. "You have the Imp of Casterly Rock," which caused Tyrion to glare at her over the top of his goblet, but she was smiling and so he didn't interrupt or correct her, "the Mother of Dragons, the King in the North, the Lady of Winterfell, The Kingslayer, the Onion Knight, the Three-Eyed Raven, a Faceless Man, and the Lord of Storm’s End. What will we all be in ten years?”

 

Jon smiled sadly. “Let’s get through a second war, and then we’ll worry about the years to come.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “You’re so dour, Jon.”

 

Arya smiled. “Always has been. But he wouldn’t be Jon if he was different.”

 

He gave her a soft smile before he spoke, “And you wouldn’t be Arya if you didn’t make me feel at peace about it.”

 

*~*

 

Arya sat beside the fire, the whetstone sliding over her sword with ease. The flames crackled in front of her and the soft sound of steel being polished was music to her ears. She heard a heavy sigh of frustration sound behind her to her left and glanced at Gendry. He had his head in his hands as he was looking over the scroll in front of him.

 

She’d helped him learn the very basics of reading. His name. Her name. The sound that _AE_ made when found together, which he needed to know as so much of the history and words had that arrangement. Someone had managed to produce a children’s book when she asked. It had caused speculation for a moment that she was pregnant, but she quickly shut that down and threatened to remove the tongue of anyone spreading that sort of gossip.

 

Gendry hated the use of the book. He felt it talked down to him. It was Arya’s ingenious idea to write a scroll for him, detailing what she wanted him to do to her, that had actually caused his reading skills to vastly improve. Each line became more difficult to read, and it was front and back. She didn’t intend to give in until he had read the entire scroll and could do each thing without having to say anything to her.

 

He finally pushed back from the table and removed his jerkin and boots and crawled onto the bed. His hands were folded beneath his head and she turned to look at him with amusement. “Giving up?”

 

“My head hurts. I think that’s worse than the book,” he said as he stared at the ceiling. She noted that the front of his leathers showed exactly how much of the scroll he was taking in and she had to control her own impulse to keep from crawling on top of him and putting his erection to good use.

 

She snorted. “You’ll complain about anything.”

 

He didn’t look at her but he smirked. “It’s the most frustrating thing. I’m old enough I should know how to read, yet I don’t. And the woman I love has decided on a most tortuous way to _teach_ me to read. I can’t decide if I’m angry or sexually frustrated. I’ve gathered that almost every word on that page is filthy and it came from you,” he said as he finally looked at her.

 

Arya smirked and sheathed her sword, then moved to the table and could see the small hatch marks on the page and how far down he’d gone before he gave up.  “But you’re making progress,” she said as she moved to the bed beside him. His blue eyes met hers and she nearly shivered at the heated look in his eyes.

 

“Yes, slow progress, I suppose.”

 

She leaned down and kissed him and when he made to grab for her, she slipped easily from his grasp. “But progress nonetheless.” She looked to the packed trunk at the foot of their bed and then the numerous satchels that sat atop it. Her booted foot kicked the trunk and she frowned. “How do you feel about storms?” she asked.

 

He shrugged. “As long as the keep stands, I’m fine.”

 

She snorted. “It would be our luck if the keep fell the first day we arrived.”

 

“Bite your tongue,” he mumbled. But after a beat, he frowned and said, “Unfortunately, I think you’re right.” He sat up then and looked at Arya. “Are we really not going to fuck our last night here?”

 

That piqued her interest. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. Might be the last time for a while that isn’t in a tent.” He patted the bed beside him, his blue eyes shining with mischief and lust. She rolled her eyes as she climbed onto the bed beside him. “Don’t look so pleased with yourself because you made a good point.”

 

He shrugged. “I do it so little. Let me have my moment.”

 

She laughed as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her on top of him. She leaned down and pressed her lips to his. His tongue danced with hers as she moved to straddle him. A low growl emitted from him as she pressed herself against his straining cock. Gendry’s hands were working on the laces of her clothes and she did what she could to help him. Her jerkin went flying to the floor with a thick thud and her tunic followed, leaving her breasts bare to his mouth and hands. She sat back on his thighs and Gendry sat up as his hands slid from her hips to her breasts, pinching her nipples as he nibbled along her collarbone.

 

Arya moaned as her hands carted through his dark hair. She pressed her cheek to the top of his head and said his name. “Gendry?” He let out a sound that she thought might have been the word ‘what’ but it was mumbled around her nipple. “You know that one day, I’m going to let you marry me, right?”

 

He released her to look her in the eyes. “Are you going to let me ask you or are you simply going to tell me?”

 

She leaned down and kissed him. “I’ll _tell you_ to _ask me_.”

 

He smiled and nodded. “Alright. Now, shut up unless you’re going to moan my name,” he said as he rolled her onto her back.

 

She smirked up at him as he removed her leathers and threw them to the floor as well. “I don’t know if I like how arrogant you are about your abilities in this area.”

 

He sat back and looked down at her. “Well, _m’lady_ , if you find me too arrogant, I’ll stop,” he said as he flopped onto his back beside her. She looked over at him expectantly. However, he didn’t move, simply tucked his arms beneath his head and stared at the ceiling once more.

 

She moved to her knees beside him and shoved him. “You’re not going to stop!”

 

“You don’t like how confident I am about it, then I won’t do it.”

 

“You don’t want to play this game, Gendry,” she warned.

 

He tilted his head as he looked up at her. “Admit that you _like_ that I know what I’m doing and you _like_ that I’m somewhat arrogant about it. Because it’s me making you moan. It’s me you want inside you. It’s _me_ you’ve chosen. It’s _my_ name you scream when I’m licking and fucking your pretty little cunt.”

 

Arya shivered at the tone of his voice and naughty words he used. The deep timber and his gruff accent caused a stirring in her belly and she wasn’t going to let her pride stand in the way of what she wanted. “I admit all of that,” she said as she moved to straddle his face. “Now, make me scream for you.” She looked down and moaned at the hungry look in his blue eyes only seconds before she felt his devilish tongue slide effortlessly through her folds. His strong hands gripped her hips and held her in place while his mouth went about a languid but exciting torture. He circled around her entrance, sucked her clit into his mouth and released it before she could get enough friction. He nipped his teeth against her clit, which caused her to buck against him and his grip to tighten.

She braced her hand against the headboard and gripped his hair with the other. She tried to roll her hips, to push against his questing tongue, but his hold on her was too strong even against the weight of her body. Arya did moan for him, a repeated mantra of his name as she closed her eyes and focused solely on him and the pleasure he wrought on her body. She was so close, could feel it building in her stomach, her limbs growing weak when he was suddenly gone from beneath her.

 

She groaned in protest and didn’t have enough time to turn and scream at him for stopping before he pushed her forward and drove his cock inside her. Arya smiled as he filled her hard and fast, a grunt coming from him each time he slammed into her fully. She fondled her own breast and gasped in surprise when he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back against his chest, his other hand sliding down her stomach to circle around but not touch her clit.

 

His breath against her ear caused her to shiver. “You love me,” he grunted and she nodded. “You want me.”  Again, she nodded. “You’re mine,” he panted. “I’m yours.”

 

“Fuck! Gendry,” she groaned as his finger finally pressed against her clit, rubbing against it quickly, and she came. He grunted into her ear as she felt her cunt clench around his still thrusting cock. She didn’t think she had the strength to hold herself up anymore and was glad for his strong hold of her.

 

The snap of his hips grew harder and he released her hair to circle around her shoulders as he rode to his own climax with her hands gripping his hips, moaning at the ferocity in which he took her. His hand, which had been toying with her cunt, pressed against the headboard to hold them up while both tried to catch their breath.

 

She leaned her head back against his shoulder and placed a kiss on his neck. “What was that?” Her voice was soft and full of wonder. She didn’t know where this sudden dominant streak came from, but she liked it. She didn’t want to admit that, but the intensity of her climax spoke volumes, she knew. When he kissed her, his tongue stroked against hers, coaxing another moan from her as she tasted herself in his mouth. That always stirred something within her.

 

Gendry slid from inside her and brought her down to the bed with him. She turned in his arms and propped her chin on his chest as he folded an arm beneath his head. “What was _what_?”

 

Her eyes met his and she smiled sleepily. “We’ve been doing this for months, now. Not once have you pulled my hair or been _that_ forceful.”

 

He shrugged. “I suppose I felt like you questioned my reason to be arrogant about how well I fuck you. Out to prove a point.”

 

She hesitated for a moment, but the playful look in his eye told her that Gendry wasn’t out to be malicious, so she grinned. “Point _well_ proven.”

 

He chuckled. “Don’t look at me like that or I’ll do it again.”

 

“That’s not a threat, you know?”

 

“No, for _you_ that’s a challenge.”

 

She turned her head to the side and rested her ear over his heart. “Last night in my home.”

 

He brushed his fingers through her hair and sighed. “It’s become my home, too. First home I ever really had.”

 

She felt sad about that and decided that together they would make a new one. They would forge a new way in this world. “We’re going to make a new one.”

 

He nodded. “We are. And who knows what sort of mischief we can get into without the eyes of your sister and brothers.”

 

She lifted her head and smiled at him. “That is true.”

 

He smiled and rolled her onto her back, his knee sliding between her thighs. “Just think about it, Arya. You can command how troops are trained. Teach others how to fight properly. Allow little girls to learn as we’ve seen what this world will do to them if they don't. Help people who can’t help themselves.” He tilted his head as his fingers traced from her jaw, down her neck and collarbone to then circle around her nipple. “And how we can fuck whenever and wherever we want because it’s our keep and anyone who doesn’t like it has to keep it to themselves or you’ll kill them.”

 

She chuckled. “If that isn’t incentive to leave, I don’t know what is.”

 

He placed a kiss on her lips and pressed his forehead to hers. “We can achieve it all if you’re at my side. I’m already at yours.”

 

She smoothed her hands over his sides and then down his back. “You have me, Gendry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me make this really clear: come after me about my chapters or even my relationship choices. I'll live with it. I will not, however, tolerate outright rudeness to other commenters on this fic. It's one thing to defend someone, it's quite another to personally harass someone. I'll delete those comments so they don't have to be seen by others. This is supposed to be an exercise in fun, in which we all enjoy something we love together. There is enough hate in this world for it not to leak into the comments section of a fic. Understood?


	60. Daenerys XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon does not take well to being the last to know...but making up is fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to Sleeping at Last - Mercury for helping to get this chapter out. I don't know if you've figured this out, but I'm musically motivated!
> 
> Also, I would like to say this so everyone can read it: be kind to one another in the comments. You may disagree with someone, as I do about certain issues, but please remain civil to one another. 60 chapters in and God knows how many reviews for this fic and I've only had to delete one review because it wasn't a review as much as it was just a nasty troll comment to another commenter. There's enough hate in this world. Be kind to one another.

 

Daenerys dismissed her handmaiden after her hair had been sufficiently combed. Jon hadn’t spoken a word to her since they entered the room together. She knew he was angry about Jaime and Sansa. He practically seethed through the entirety of dinner. Maybe Sansa shouldn’t have invited him to dine with them. But she would not speak out against Sansa. She knew what it took to move on from the horrors of being raped and used. She knew the lengths that it took in your own mind to be able to trust someone again. 

 

When she stood from her vanity, she found Jon in the bed, the furs pulled up to his shoulders and his back facing her side of the bed. She rolled her eyes and climbed in beside him and kept almost the entire breadth of the bed between them as she lay on her back.

 

“This is how we’re going to spend the first night back in our bed?”

 

“I’m tired,” he mumbled.

 

She scoffed. “Very well,” she said as she rolled to her side and thought that if he could shut her out, she would shut him out. 

 

It was several long minutes of her staring at the wall before he shifted on the bed and she knew he was staring at her. “How could you not tell me?”   
  


She rolled onto her back and then sat up. “What should I have said?”

 

“ _ Your sister has feelings for Jaime Lannister _ would have been a good place to start.”

 

She frowned. “And what would you have done?”

 

“Killed him,” he said adamantly.  

 

“Reason enough not to tell you.” He sat up, a scowl on his already serious face. “I won’t tell you all of what was said, but I can tell you that when we discussed it, she was very distraught.”

 

“All the more reason to have let me kill him.”

 

She shook her head and moved to her knees beside him, hoping she could make him see reason. “She was distraught because she knew she already had feelings for him. Whatever it is out there that makes people fall for one another had caused havoc on Sansa and Jaime. She was also struggling with how to trust someone again.”

 

“Are you suggesting she doesn’t trust her family?”   
  


She furrowed her brow. “Not at all. Trusting her family isn’t the issue. I shouldn’t have to explain that part as that is not what I meant,” she said, allowing the silence to hang in the room, at her pointed look he started to move from the bed. “What are you doing?”   
  


“I’m going to kill him. I will not allow someone like  _ him _ to touch my sister.” She caught his hand before he could climb from the bed. “Let go of me.”

 

She shook her head. “You won’t do that because it would hurt her. She cares for him, Jon. And if you kill him, then she just pines for him the rest of her life, wondering what could have been, and hates you for taking it from her.”

 

He pulled his arm from her grasp but sat back on the bed. “You should have told me.”

 

“So, you’ve redirected your anger back at me?”

 

“As my  _ wife _ , you should have told me.”

 

She folded her arms over her chest. “As your  _ wife _ , I should also polish your boots for you. Is that something you want?”

 

He paused and she knew that he was carefully weighing his next words. “I thought we were honest with one another.”

 

“I have been honest with you,” she said softly.

 

“A lie by omission is still a lie.”

 

She sat back and felt like he’d slapped her. “You and your honor,” she climbed from the bed herself, slid on her leathers, tunic dress, boots, and then her heavy cloak, the room remained silent the entire time. 

 

When she walked to the door, his voice stopped her. “Where do you think you’re going?”

 

She turned and faced him. “Let’s get something straight, right now, Jon Snow. I may be your wife, but I will not be lorded over. I will not be made to submit. I will not be brought to heel. Not by anyone and especially not by you. I’m leaving your sight because I feel the urge to have Drogon set you on fire,” she said as she flung open the door and stormed from the room with “Don’t follow me,” shouted behind her. 

 

The Unsullied guards followed her outside to where Drogon and Rhaegal had been sleeping. As she got closer, they both wrapped around her, hiding her from the world as she leaned against Drogon and sank to the ground. They both had their heads resting beside her, their warm breath heating the ground around her. She moved her fingers along their heads, both preening under her touch just as Ghost usually did. Drogon suddenly lifted his head and growled, but she knew it was Jon and so she patted her beloved dragon’s side.

 

“I made it  _ clear _ for you not to follow me,” She grumbled as he was allowed inside the circle they had made around her, and he sat across from her against Rhaegal’s side. 

 

“We’ve both made it  _ clear _ that we do what we want.”

 

Silence grew between them like a chasm, both not speaking even as Rhaegal nudged him with his snout. She broke first, though, as she knew Jon’s ability to brood for hours. 

 

“I didn’t tell you because it wasn’t my secret to tell. You can be angry with me about that if you want, but your sister confided in me. I take that sort of thing very seriously. Also, at the time, they weren’t together. All I knew was that she had feelings for him that she was confused about.”

 

“Why not dissuade her?”

 

“You mean like Tyrion tried to do to me when we were first together? He thought it was dangerous and foolish for us to become so entangled. Would you have liked it if I had done that to Sansa?” She sighed. “Jon, the second Tyrion tried to tell me how dangerous, reckless, and foolish it was, I found you and we fucked for hours. I was out to prove a point that I did what I wanted and what I wanted was you. Would you have liked it if Sansa had taken the same approach?” Jon closed his eyes and leaned his head back. “Women like Sansa and I don’t like to be told what to do. Too many people have taken liberties with that in the past.”

 

“So, I should just sit idly by while Jaime fucking Lannister seduces my sister and breaks her heart?”

 

“Why do you think he’ll break her heart?” she questioned. “Why is that so certain in your mind?”

 

“Again, you seem to know something I don’t,” he said as he leveled a look at her.

 

“I know Jaime is mad for her. Tyrion confirmed that to me.”

 

“So, you can discuss this with Tyrion but not your husband?”

 

She took a deep steadying breath and Drogon growled beside her, radiating the rage she felt inside. “Tyrion already knew. I asked about Jaime’s feelings for her. He told me. I will not allow you to place all of your anger about this onto me. Leave me be,” she said as she turned her face away from him.

 

He didn’t move, but his sigh filled the air. “Is there anything else I don’t know?”

 

She rested her head on her knees, still not looking at him. “You think I keep secrets from you?”

 

“Jaime and Sansa is a huge fucking secret. Everyone seemed to know  _ but  _ me. Simply making sure that there isn’t anything else that people think I’m better off not knowing.”

 

She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes. “Maybe they were right. You’ve been so understanding about everything.”

 

“Jaime nearly killed my brother!”

 

“He killed my father!” she shouted back. “What do you want me to do, Jon? I can’t change any of this. I can’t go back and tell you. I can’t make Sansa tell you sooner. I can’t change that they have feelings for one another! He’s leaving with us in less than a fortnight and maybe it will all be meaningless. But you blaming this on me isn’t right. Your sister confided in me. What sort of person would I be if I disclosed what was said?”

 

She watched as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, again. His arms were perched on his folded knees, his fingers rubbing together as he processed everything that had been said. She had half a mind to throw snow at him. It was a better idea than letting Drogon set him on fire. At the thought, the black dragon growled behind her and she reached out a hand to smooth over him. 

 

Jon’s eyes opened and he looked at Drogon who had his large head very close to her husband. Jon turned his attention to Daenerys, his eyes dark and his expression darker. There was anger but also want. They were two passionate people fighting over what they thought was right. “Are you going to have him eat me or set me on fire?”

 

“Undecided,” she said tartly. Rhaegal only lifted his head and looked at the two of them. Her dragons were so intelligent, able to sense the fighting, and though Drogon was firmly on her side, Rhaegal seemed to be torn between his mother and his rider. 

 

“I don’t want to sleep on the ground, again,” he said softly.

 

“You know where your room is. I suggest you go.”

 

He looked at her then, the fire in his eyes unmistakable. “I’m not leaving without you.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I think I’m safe without you, at least here.”

 

He huffed out a breath. “Safety has nothing to do with it.”

 

“What then?” She snapped.

 

“I want to be around you,” he asserted. “Whether I’m angry with you or not.”

 

“And if your reason to be angry with me is misplaced?”

 

“It’s not.”

 

“It is,” she insisted. “What would have happened if I had told you right away? Would you have stormed through the castle and killed Jaime? Tried to dissuade Sansa? Either of those options tells Sansa I can’t be trusted to keep her confidence. That doesn’t make for a good person let alone a good future sister. Perhaps I should have urged her to tell you, but you’re telling me that I should have been the one to tell you about a relationship she wasn’t even in.”

 

Jon stared at her and then hung his head. “I feel like if I kill him it ends the argument.”

 

She rolled her eyes and moved beside him. “You have a very defined sense of right and wrong. Of honor. But that sometimes conflicts with the world we live in. Jaime has done horrendous things. But your sister is an intelligent woman who won’t fall prey to a man, again. And you should hope he treats her well and can be a man worthy of her because she doesn’t deserve anything less. Put aside your sense of duty and realize that she is a grown woman capable of making her own decisions about what’s best for her. Trust her.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Then stop sulking. Whether you like it or not, she’s invested in him. From all appearances at dinner, he’s invested in her. You don’t have to like it or even outwardly approve of it. You just have to step aside and realize that Sansa is the one who will decide her fate. And if she decides that involves Jaime, then you need to remain silent and supportive.

 

“As for me, you can continue to be angry with me. It’s not productive or worth much, but you can continue. However, I can’t change what has happened and I wouldn’t change what I did. I want her to trust me as she would a sister and that requires me to be there for her and keep her secrets as I would expect her to keep mine. If you can’t understand that, then I don’t know what’s to be done. I do know that I’m sorry you’re hurt but that’s the only part I would change,” she said before she stood, patted Drogon and left him again. 

 

Jon was at her side quickly, his hand at her elbow. “I’m sorry you don’t understand why I’m upset. I was with Sansa as we went after Ramsay. I saw how afraid she was. I saw how much she hated him. That’s not something I can easily push aside.”

 

She heaved a sigh. “No one is asking you to forget it...”

 

“That’s not true. I  _ am _ being asked to forget it. I’m being told that I have to be alright with her choice even though the thought makes my skin crawl. Jaime Lannister doesn’t deserve her.” 

 

She reached up and touched his cheek. “I agree. But that’s not your choice to make. Nor is it mine. Trust her. If she’s not happy with what’s happening, he won’t live very long.”

 

He huffed out a breath. “I suppose that is a comfort.”

 

She sighed. “You and I have bigger things to worry about than this. There are hundreds of thousands of people who need us to make our march to King’s Landing and be a united front. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you because it hurt you. I hope you’ll accept it.”

 

He frowned. “I do. I don’t like it but I...understand.”

 

She linked her arm through his as they made their way back into the keep and to their room. The door closed behind her and she brought her hands up to her neck and massaged the tense muscles. She was quickly distracted though as Jon’s hands went around her waist from behind and actively began removing her coat. He nearly ripped it in his haste to remove it. She tried to turn in his arms, but his hands kept her in place as his lips moved along her throat and up to her ear.

 

She helped him remove her cloak and dress, then turned into his arms, not allowing him to keep her from him. She pulled his mouth to hers and he growled low in in throat as her hands tugged at his leathers and pushed him against the door. She dropped to her knees in front of him and pushed his tunic up as his hard cock was exposed. She watched her wild wolf remove his cloak and leather jerkin while her hand busied itself stroking over the smooth length of him. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of his cock then flicked her tongue over it, tasting him. 

 

“Stop teasing,” he demanded and she smiled up at him. 

 

“And what do you want, Jon Snow? How can I end the teasing,” she whispered.

 

He growled. “Your mouth. I want your mouth.”

 

She swirled her tongue around the tip and took it into her mouth. She felt his fingers slid into her hair at the nape of her neck as she slid down and withdrew, sucking in her cheeks. His moan was loud and she wondered momentarily if anyone could hear him. Daenerys continued the pressure until she felt his fingers tug forcefully on the hair at her nape, removing her mouth from him. He tugged her to stand and then backed her to their table, his mouth hard and demanding against hers. He pushed her back against the hard surface and shoved her leathers down to her knees then roughly tugged off one of her boots and the leg of her pants nearly ripped from her then. 

 

She thrilled under the roughness of his touch, she brought her lips to hers and his tongue stroked hers. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped as his hands cupped her breasts. His dark head ducked and he took one into his mouth and pain coursed through her so she pushed his face away. “They ache,” she muttered, embarrassed to admit it as she ducked her head. He lifted her chin and her eyes met his. The softness in them told her that she shouldn’t be ashamed. Jon kissed her again, this time softer than the demanding pressure he had used before. She reached down and stroked over his cock again. 

 

She broke their kiss and her lips moved along his neck and bit gently at the skin. He moved her hand, then slid inside her in a hard thrust. She bit hard on the juncture where his neck met shoulder. He gathered her close and wrapped her legs around his waist, then lifted her from the table, causing her to wrap her arms around his shoulders as he walked the short distance to the bed. He placed her on the edge and slid out to pump into her again. Daenerys unwrapped her legs from around his waist and placed her still booted foot over his shoulder. Even as his hips thrust against hers, he worked the laces of her boot and finally tossed it to the floor and he removed her leathers as well. She slid her hand down her belly and danced over her clit, bringing her closer to the proverbial edge until he snatched her hand away.

 

Her eyes met his, the look in them dark. His fingers tickled along the outside of her thigh even as he said, “Wait for me.”  She nodded and raised her hips to meet his. 

 

“Harder,” she demanded and her lover’s eyes flashed and she knew something primal, darker was taking over as he moved her leg to this other shoulder and thrust hard into now, his fingers digging into the skin of her hip as his other gripped the knee of her other leg. She keened under the pressure and attention. “Yes! So close,” she moaned before she bit her lip as she felt the familiar pressure at her core stretch and reach higher, tighter like a string, until it finally snapped and her body tensed, her inner walls clenching around his thrusting cock in spasms. The frenzied pace of his thrusts continued until he lowered his head, a loud growl emitted from his throat. His cock drove into her a few more times and braced himself on the bed over her. 

 

She turned to her back fully, bringing her legs to cradle him between her thighs. He fell atop her, his mouth plundering hers once more. She ran her fingers through his dark curls, twisting a few leisurely. When his mouth released hers, he placed a kiss on her brow. “I hate fighting with you,” he grumbled.

 

Daenerys chuckled. “I like it if this is how we settle a disagreement.”

 

His eyes narrowed a bit as he withdrew from her and then settled on the bed beside her. “We can do this without fighting.”

 

She nodded. “I know. But if you’re going to try to prove a point to me, I would much rather it be like this than us screaming at one another. It’s much more satisfying, wouldn’t you agree?”

 

He chuckled and cuddled her close. “If I disagree are you going to demand we do it again to prove  _ your  _ point?”

 

She yawned and shook her head. “No. You’ve exhausted me, my love. I can prove my point in the morning after you’ve dreamed of me,” she then rolled to her stomach and crawled to her side of the bed and heard him moan at the picture she deliberately presented. He leaned forward and bit her lightly on the arse to which she moaned. 

 

“Do  _ that _ again, Jon Snow, and I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

 

“All the more reason for me to try,” he said with a grin.

 

She settled down against the pillows on her side facing him. He moved into her arm and kissed her softly. His arms wrapped around her and she felt his lips move along her hairline as his thumb traced the side of her breast. “Is pregnancy the reason they’re sore?”

 

She nodded and looked up at him. “Yes.”

 

“It’s a shame. I do love to lick them and touch them...”

  
She had her eyes closed, but a smile was on her lips. “Jon, I’m tired.”

 

“So am I. But that doesn’t mean I can’t still want you,” he whispered, “or think about all the things I can do to you to make you moan my name.”

 

She opened her eyes then to look at him. “You must know that I’m stirred by your possessiveness.”

 

He chuckled. “I’ve gathered.”

 

She rested her head between his chin and shoulder. “You’ve no need to worry. What man could ever compare to you?”

 

He made a noise and held her tighter. “I’d kill anyone who had the bad idea to test that statement.”

 

Daenerys grinned. “I love watching you with a sword in your hand. I’m surprised you haven’t realized how wet it makes me for you.”

 

He was silent for a moment and then shook his head. “Maybe I should join Brienne and Sansa for their training in the morning.”

 

She moaned low in her throat. “And then you can come back and fuck me before our first council meeting of the day.”

 

His lips at her ear caused her to shiver. “Dany, you’ve got yourself a deal.”

 


	61. Gendry X & Arya XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry says goodbye to Davos. Arya vs. Jon, and farewells are said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't done a combined chapter in a long time and the last time I did it was Gendry and Arya then, too. 
> 
> The basis for the outcome of the fight is based off an interview with D&D where they admitted that Jon could take Arya in a fight. Up until now, he hasn't wanted to fight her because he had no desire to fight his sister. But she's leaving, no idea when he would see her next and decided to indulge her.

 

**GENDRY**

 

Gendry searched through the room once more, looking for anything they might have missed that they would want to take with them. Simply looking around caused a pit in his stomach at the thought of leaving the first place he’d ever truly felt home. He knew Arya was having a hard time of it, and he’d tried to keep it light and playful, hopeful even that they would be able to keep that feeling. But even he had his doubts.

 

The knock on the open door caused him to turn and he found Davos standing in the doorway. “Packed?”

 

“I think we have everything,” he said as he stood and faced the man who had been like a father to him. The closest to one he’d ever known. “I guess this is farewell for a while.”

 

Davos moved into the room and closed the door behind him. “As long as you’re not rowing there, you should be fine.”

 

Gendry chuckled. “I suppose you’re right,” he closed the trunk and frowned. “You were close with Princess Shireen?”

 

He nodded. “I was. She was...one of the best parts of the Baratheons. She was good. Kind. So much of what Stannis wasn’t. She would have made a fine ruler one day. Just as you _will_ be a good Lord.”

 

He lifted his cloak and put it around his neck. “I just want people to suffer less.”

 

“As two men who grew up in Flea Bottom, we’ve seen that more than anyone should. Circumstances change and here we are. A Knight and a Lord.” Gendry slid his hammer into the harness at his back as he went to lift the trunk. Davos stopped him, however. “You’re a Lord. You should let your men do it for you.”

 

He shook his head. “I may be a Lord, but I haven’t forgotten who I was or who I still am.”

 

Davos gave him a proud smile. “You’ll need to remember both of those things. Very well, should I help you?”

 

Gendry shrugged and hefted one end and Davos grabbed the other. He reached over and gathered the three packed satchels on the table.  He closed the door behind him as Davos walked down the hall.

 

As they entered the courtyard, he noticed that people were gathered along the wall. Even as he and Davos deposited the trunk on the cart, his curiosity got the best of him. “What’s happening?”

 

Davos put a hand on his shoulder and steered him to stand near Tyrion and Jaime. “The King is going to give his sister something she has asked for since he arrived.”

 

“You mean he’s going to fight her?”

 

“More or less.”

 

“Does Jon know what he’s getting into?”

 

Davos smirked. “Does she?”

 

*~*

 

**ARYA**

 

She sat with Sansa and Bran the following morning. They were waiting on Jon to join them as he had insisted that they spend the last few minutes alone, the four of them. The door opened and Jon entered the room, his sword at his side, but no outer cloak. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and sighed. “Come on,” he urged and nodded for one of the guards to push Bran behind them.

 

Arya frowned. “What are you doing?”

 

“I can’t let you leave thinking that I’m afraid of you,” he said with a smile. “I’m going to give you something you’ve been asking for since I got here.”

 

Arya’s face lit up. “You’re going to fight me?”

 

“Just remember I’m your brother,” he said as they exited to the courtyard. Arya adjusted her boots as she withdrew her sword. She noticed that there was a large group standing around, waiting for them to fight. It seems he had told the group what would happen. Gendry and Davos stood together with Brienne, Tormund, and Jaime. Daenerys and Tyrion were near them, though Varys was also at her side. The rest were guards and a few commanders of Jon and Daenerys’ army.

 

Arya withdrew her sword and held it in front of her, then twirled it in her hand to hold it behind her back. Jon withdrew Longclaw from its sheath, then undid his sword belt and handed it off to Davos. “Five gold dragons on Arya,” Brienne stated.

 

Tyrion smirked. “I’ll see that. Jon Snow, I would appreciate it if you made me five dragons richer.”

 

Arya felt her heart hammering in her chest. She knew she was well matched for Brienne, but she’d seen Jon on the battlefield and didn’t know what her level of skill would be against her brother. The tales of him and his sword were near legend now, and it worried her that she wouldn’t match up.

 

“Stick ‘em with the pointy end,” she said softly and he smiled. Both took their stance and waited, walking circles around one another. Jon advanced first, and she parried the swing, but before she could bring the sword to his neck, he had spun the opposite direction and deflected her strike. Arya felt nothing but the thrill of the fight coursing through her veins. She swung first this time, a low attack, which he deflected easily and advanced on her, sending her stepping backward and to the right. She pivoted, her sword clanging off his as she lunged towards his leg, but he swiped Longclaw to the left, causing her to jump back to escape the swing of his sword

 

Arya danced to the left, but he blocked that blow easily enough. She was trying to find a flaw to exploit. She needed to if she was going to defeat him. It wasn’t that she wanted Jon to lose, but she certainly didn’t want to. She needed to prove to him that she could take care of herself and that she could do it without him. She needed to prove it to herself, that she was as good as Jon.

 

But the longer they fought, the more she doubted that. She’d used nearly every trick in the book and yet she felt like he was holding back. She felt sweat moving along her brow and the back of her neck as Jon managed to spin out of another lunge and she felt her frustration growing. And as she advanced again, he swung down hard with his sword near the hilt, the force of which sent her sword to the ground.

 

She removed the knife at her side and twirled it in her fingers as she spun and deflected a blow. She reached out her foot and caught her sword as it flew into the air and was now fighting with two weapons. However, this didn’t seem to cause Jon to alter his attack all that much as she began to truly advance on him then, but he parried each blow until he knocked the knife from her hand and stood with his blade at her neck.

 

Arya was almost certain she could hear Tyrion’s smirk at Brienne. She heaved out a sigh and glared at her brother. “You were holding back,” she accused.

 

He lowered his head a bit as he resheathed his sword. “There were a few things I would have done differently if I was actually facing an opponent I was going to kill, yes.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“You don’t fight fair or pretty when you’re facing an enemy. You did against me. I figured I would extend the same courtesy.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

“You could have elbowed me in the face or the back of my head. You could have stomped on the back of my knee. You didn’t do either of those. I took your advance on how to fight you.”

 

“We weren’t out to hurt one another.”

 

He shook his head. “I would do anything in my power to keep you from getting hurt, Arya. I did this because...I always wanted to see you become more than a Lady. You’re a warrior. A deadly one.”

 

She stepped closer as most of the people started to disburse. All except her family. “I couldn’t beat you.”

 

He frowned. “Consider this: Tormund was right when he said I became a better fighter after each fight. That sort of experience is one I don’t wish on you.” He stepped forward and hugged her after she resheathed Needle. “We both became more than a Lady and a Bastard the last time we parted. Imagine what could happen this time,” he said to her softly.

 

“I’ll miss you the most, brother,” she said as she clung to him.

 

He squeezed her tighter. “Take care of each other,” he said before he released her. “Sister.”

 

Sansa was next and her sister had her normal aloof mask on her features. “It doesn’t seem fair that when you and I manage to get along is when we have to part again.”

 

“Life’s not fair,” she said, finally. She didn’t think it would be this hard to say goodbye to Sansa. But over the last several months, she had developed a love for her sister that she didn’t realize. She had become her confidant about things she could never talk to with Jon. She even listened to her complain about Gendry on occasion. She stepped forward and hugged Sansa. “Take care of yourself. And if Jaime hurts you, I’ll ride day and night to Winterfell to kill him and give you his head,” she said softly into her ear.

 

Sansa stepped back and smiled, though unshed tears sat in her eyes. “I appreciate that. And I know it’s true. Be careful. Send a raven when you arrive.”

 

“Why do you need a raven when you have Bran?” she questioned as she looked at her brother. She hugged Sansa once more. “Be careful,” she said to Sansa once more and moved to Bran and gave him a hug. “Anything I should know before we go South?”

 

He tilted his head. “You have allies in Storm’s End, already. Men ready to swear to Gendry. They question why you ride with him when you’re not married, but I feel you’ll do a fine job of putting them in their place about that.”

 

Arya smiled. “You know I will. You’ll keep an eye on us?”

 

“Two eyes. Travel the road by day, but stick to the woods at night.”

 

She nodded and turned to see Jon speaking with Gendry. Before she could join them, she was met by Daenerys. “It has been a pleasure to get to know you, Arya.”

 

She gave a bow of her head. “Take care of my brother?”

 

Daenerys nodded. “It will be my honor.”

 

Arya looked around for a moment. “I always imagined what it would be like to meet a Targaryen who rides dragons. Specifically, a woman. I idealized them in my head. Thought there could never be anything more fierce.” Her eyes met Daenerys. “I was right,” she said as a small smile broke across her face.

 

Daenerys blinked back tears. “This baby is making me an emotional mess,” she whispered before she leaned in and hugged Arya briefly. “Always be you. Never let anyone make you bend to what they want,” she said softly.

 

Arya stepped away and Brienne was waiting for her. “You didn’t think you would get to leave without saying goodbye to me, did you?”

 

Arya shook her head. “It’s not good-bye. We’ll see one another again.” Arya smirked as she looked over at Tormund who was speaking with Jaime and Sansa. “Maybe at your wedding,” she joked.

 

Brienne raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Or yours.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes. Jon and Gendry approached them then. “The Hound is going to ride south with you until you get just North of King’s Landing. He’s going to do some scouting on the grounds for us.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Admit that you still feel like you have to protect me.”

 

He shook his head. “After what I just saw, everyone else needs protecting. Now, get your ass on the horse so we can leave,” he said as he climbed onto his own, and Gendry onto his. Arya gave Jon one last hug and climbed up, adjusting Needle at her hip. She cast a look at Gendry, willing away the tears. He gave her a slight nod, his blue eyes shining at her. The Hound and the small contingent of men rode out of the keep, Arya and Gendry the last to go, riding out into the great world together.

 

*~*

 

Later that night, Gendry was laying on his side reading over the scroll, his brows bunched in annoyance as he had reached a new word. Arya entered the tent and stripped off her boot, jerkin, and leathers, then climbed beneath the furs with Gendry, pushing the scroll out of the way.

 

His arms immediately went around her as she rested her head on his heart. The only sound that of their breathing and the wind whipping against the tent. She tugged his other arm around her, needing the comfort that only he could bring. She felt his lips against her hair and sighed. “We’ll see them all again, you know that, right?”

 

She nodded. “I do. I just remember what happened the last time I left Winterfell. It took years to get back.”

 

Gendry squeezed her a bit tighter. “I won’t allow for it to take that long.”

 

She lifted her head to look at him. “Your word as a Lord?”

 

He shook his head. “My word as the man who loves you and wants you happy.”

 

Arya smiled and kissed his chin. “I trust that more than a Lord any day.” She rested her head once more and closed her eyes. “Do you think in a real fight I could take Jon?” Gendry made a noise and she lifted her head slowly, her eyes narrowed. “Well?”

 

“If I lie, you’ll know. If I tell you the truth, you’ll be mad.”

 

“You don’t think so?”

 

“I love you. You’re one of the best fighters I’ve ever seen. But he knew what you were going to do before you did it. I think there’s an experience curve there. One in which you should be lucky you didn’t have to endure.”

 

She rested her head again. “I’ll just train harder and faster. I’ll beat him, one day.”

 

Gendry nodded. “I have faith in you. Let’s go to sleep.”

 

She settled in, tugging the fur around her shoulders, even as she slept against the heat of Gendry’s body. It wasn’t the air making her cold, it was the loss of her home and missing her family. But as Gendry drifted into the now familiar snores and his hand had somehow found its way up to her breast, she smiled. “You'll be my family,” she said softly and closed her eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's more or less not canon at this point, but it's my story and I wanna tell this one in my head. I apologize if you don't like it, but there are a lot of other writers out there who are working amazing stories up for your reading pleasure. Give them love. However, this is my story and I will tell it the way I want.


	62. Jaime XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime can't avoid Jon forever. Sansa and Jaime get some much needed alone time through her own machinations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the Jon and Jaime scenes were actually a blast to write. Jon will be the next chapter.

**JAIME**

 

Sansa still stood with Bran, Jon, and Daenerys as they watched Arya climb onto the saddle of her horse. As they started to trot away, Daenerys began speaking with Jon and Bran, leaving Sansa standing alone. She’d done a valiant job thus far of keeping her tears at bay, but he watched as they finally slipped down her cheeks. He made his way towards her, captured her gently by the elbow and turned her towards him. “Are you alright?”

 

She turned to him and shook her head. “This is just the beginning of everyone leaving. You’ll leave next. Jon, Daenerys...”

 

He reached up and swiped away her tears with his fingers. “I can assure you, one of those will be back.” She smiled and worked to compose herself. He looked around and noticed a few of the men staring daggers at him. He knew that people would be unhappy with even the slightest hint that there was something happening between him and Sansa. He’d felt the heated stares before in the past. But he didn’t want that for her. “We have an audience,” he said softly. 

 

Sansa turned her head to look in the direction of the huddled soldiers and they began to disperse. “You’re the one who didn’t want it to be a secret,” she reminded him. “I think we’ll have to deal with dirty looks and ugly talk from people for a very long time.”

 

“You don’t deserve that,” he responded.

 

“Lannister!” He turned at Jon calling his name, and now everyone in the yard was watching him. “I still long for a fight. Draw your sword,” he commanded. Several of the men that had been watching him hatefully now moved towards the impending fight. Jaime was no fool. Had he still possessed his right hand, he might have been able to hold his own against Jon Snow. But there was no chance that success was possible now. Especially not as he had watched Jon square off against Arya only moments before.

 

Tyrion was once more by his brother’s side. “I wouldn’t stand a chance against you, your grace,” Tyrion answered.

 

Jon smiled and looked down at the mud. “Not the Lannister I meant.”

 

“Your grace,” Tyrion near pleaded even as Sansa put her hand on Jaime’s arm to still him. “You’ve just fought a rather remarkable fight against your sister. And you have a council meeting in a very short time...”

  
“Tyrion,” Jon said finally, the smile had left his face.

 

It was Daenerys’s voice that cut through the mumbles as she moved over to her king. “Rhaegal is acting strange,” she said softly. 

 

“You’re his mother,” he said lowly.

 

“And you’re his rider. It might take more than me to calm him,” she said softly. “You can fight later.”

 

Jaime watched the looks that passed between the king and queen and he only hoped her powers of persuasion were such that it would keep Jon from unleashing his anger on him. He felt Sansa’s hands at his elbow and he glanced at her. However, Jon slid his sword back in its place at his side and followed Daenerys to the gates. Jaime released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding when he felt a hand clamp him on his shoulder.

 

“I don’t know that he would have killed you. But I do know I wouldn’t be standing here when he got back,” Tormund offered.

 

“Wise advice,” Tyrion supplied.

 

He looked at Sansa and frowned. “Train with Brienne,” he offered. “I’ll make myself scarce.”

 

She shook her head. “I am not hiding this from anyone. If it makes others uncomfortable, that’s their problem. Not ours.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “If your brother is adamant about making Jaime suffer, it’s best it not be done in a courtyard full of soldiers. Train with Brienne and Jaime can come inside with Tormund and I. Let’s allow the King to compose himself and the Queen to help him,” he said, matter-of-factly.  “Just for now, my lady. No one is asking you to hide anything. But we all saw what happened between Jon and Arya and we all know that he wasn’t fighting at his full strength or ability against her. I fear, against Jaime, he would.”

 

Sansa looked torn and Jaime took her hand in his and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Train. I’ll see you later. I promise.”

 

She nodded before she turned and joined Brienne and Podrick who she squared off against one another. “Come, brother, let us find sanctuary inside Winterfell.”

 

Tormund nodded. “I’ll come, too. Just in case King Crow does find you and decides to kill you.”

  
“Why in case?”

 

“I haven’t seen anyone die in a while. It makes me on edge,” he admitted as he led the way into the keep.

 

Tyrion smiled up at his brother and then at the Wildling’s back. “You haven’t made many friends while in the North and the one tentative friend you have is willing to watch you die. Doesn’t say much for your popularity, does it?”

 

“I still have you, brother.”

 

Tyrion smiled. “That you do. But you might want to make friends with people who can defend you with a sword rather than words.”

 

“It was a nice effort, though.”

 

“Leave it to Daenerys to be able to distract him,” he said as they made their way into the solar that had the map laid out on a table. 

 

“Aye, the Dragon Queen is distracting,” Tormund said. “Fiery little woman.” They reached the solar and Tormund moved around the room examining the various instruments it offered. “Why is Jon trying to kill you?” Tormund questioned.

 

“His sister Sansa and I are together.”

 

“Well, fucking his sister is better than fucking your own,” he said and Tyrion nearly choked on his wine.

 

“I’m not currently ‘fucking’ anyone,” Jaime insisted. 

 

Tormund frowned. “Seems like it’s not worth dying for if you’re not doing it.”

 

Tyrion frowned and explained, “Sansa has been severely mistreated in the past. To push for something she isn’t ready for would be cruel.”

 

The ginger leveled at look at Tyrion. “I’m not saying fuck her against her will. I’m saying that you shouldn’t die for it if you’re not doing it. Best avoid Snow at all costs.”

 

“Not sure how agreeable Sansa will be to that. She’s already forced me to a dinner where I know I wasn’t wanted.”

 

“Those soldiers in the courtyard didn’t seem very pleased with the idea, either.”

 

Tormund leaned forward. “Why does it matter?”

 

“Starks and Lannisters are enemies.”

 

“Are they? Two of them are here helping fight against the one in the South. Seems to me more of you are allies.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Tyrion said finally. 

 

“Why not?”

 

Jaime closed his eyes. “I nearly killed Bran Stark, my...son killed their father or had him killed after calling him a traitor. My father orchestrated the death of their mother and brother, Robb. There’s a lot of shit that’s passed.”

 

“Then why are you here?” Tormund asked.

 

Tyrion spoke first. “I sided with Daenerys after I felt she was the best chance we had at making a new world. Her alliance with Jon was unforeseen, but has its advantages.”

 

Tormund stared at him a moment, then Jaime. “And you?”

 

Jaime heaved a sigh. “I couldn’t let them think an army was coming when there wasn’t one. Cersei betrayed the kingdom and me when she backed out of her agreement.”

 

“So, honor? I’ve known Jon Snow for a while. He respects people who hold true to their word.”

 

“I nearly killed his brother.”

 

Tormund frowned. “You shouldn’t have done that. I’d have already cut you into pieces and fed you to dogs. But then, I’m not as forgiving as some people.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “You realize the real issue with you and Sansa isn’t that it causes her brother to be upset. Rather the people of the North will not accept a Lannister in a position of power in Winterfell.”

 

“So, I should give up my pursuit of Sansa because some hard-nosed Lords don’t like it? Fuck them.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “No. But a solution needs to be found before any plans for your future together are made.”

 

“Figure out how to appease them before I marry her, is that it?”

 

“Are you going to marry her?” Tormund asked.

 

Jamie leaned back in his chair and looked at the two men who were staring at him. He frowned and sighed. “It’s her decision.”

 

“Have you asked her?” Tyrion questioned.

 

“No. It’s a little soon for that.”

 

Tormund shook his head. “You Southroners. There are so many rules.”

 

*~*

 

Jaime felt a great deal of apprehension as the guard had arrived at his room and demanded that he follow him to meet with the King. Apprehension wasn’t the right word. Fear. Outright fear. There were many paths that Jon could take if he so chose. He could kill him, finally, for what he’d done to Bran. He could banish him from the keep, which would make it more difficult to see Sansa, though he had a feeling she wouldn’t go along with that once she found out. 

 

He entered the solar to find Jon leaning over the table that had a great map of Westeros on it. He looked up as the guard cleared his throat. “Close the door,” he said and the guard did as he was bid and he took a deep breath. Jaime could see he was mentally preparing himself to speak with him. He wondered if it was to keep him from killing Jaime.

 

“I’ve been told that I need to be silent and supportive for my sister. Though I’m finding both of those to be difficult. After all, I remember vividly how she was when she arrived at Castle Black after being at the mercy of Ramsay. How she told me she would end her life before she ever fell back into his hands.” He glared at Jaime. “I feel that some people expect me to forget that. Or forget what your family, specifically you, have done to mine.” 

 

Jaime remained silent and allowed him to continue because he did fear what would happen if he was to make him draw his sword. “You nearly killed my brother. Joffrey killed my father. Your father had Robb and Lady Stark killed. It seems to me that the Starks owe the Lannisters. How would your sister react if I sent her your head?”

 

He could see that Jon was waiting for a response and frowned. “Probably be happy considering she’s tried to have me killed three times, now.”

 

“So, I could save her the trouble of another assassin and just do it myself?”

 

“It would be a shame to let Cersei get what she wants.”

 

Jon shrugged. “I might make an exception.”

 

Jaime frowned. “Then make it,” he said finally. “I don’t know what you think I’m out to do with Sansa, but believe me, I would do anything to keep her from ever feeling pain again.”

 

Jon scoffed. “How is that possible? How has any of this happened?”

 

Jaime shrugged a shoulder and frowned. “I only know that it has. I’m not worthy of her...”

 

“Not even by half,” Jon interrupted.

 

“But I want her happy. I would love to be the person who makes her happy.”

 

He sat in the chair opposite where Jaime stood and sighed as he glanced at the fire. “I’ve been told that I need to be silent and simply let this play out. That if you hurt her there is a line of people ready to kill you at will. I hate all of this,” he said as he looked at Jaime once more, his dark eyes causing a great unease in his stomach. “What are your intentions?”

 

“To make her happy.”

 

“Too vague,” he replied quickly. “Do you intend to marry her?”

 

He took a deep breath, knowing that he had been thinking it in his own mind, but hadn’t said as much to Sansa. If he told Jon, would he run and tell her before he even had the opportunity? Would he kill him? Would he send him away? He was the King, and even if Jaime hadn’t bent the knee, the North would rally to throw him out if not publically murder him given the command. “If she would have me.”

 

Jon rolled his eyes as he looked back at the fire. “Sit,” he said and Jaime looked at the chair hesitantly. “I’m not going to kill you, today,” he finished and Jaime finally took the seat. “I’m fair enough to allow you to fight for your life before I took it.” Jon tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair and sighed. “I didn’t actually ask you here to discuss Sansa, though it’s a talk I believe we needed to have. I invited you to question you about  _ your _ sister.”

 

He glanced at the floor. “What about her?”

 

“She has Wildfire beneath the whole of King’s Landing. Would she really kill herself to keep someone else from taking the throne?”

 

Jaime nodded. “But I don’t think it will come to that.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I’m sure she has some sort of secret escape planned once you get close. That’s why it was smart to send Arya and Gendry ahead to cut off her path to Storm’s End.”

 

“And would she run to Casterly Rock?”

 

He frowned. “She knows the Lannisters don’t hold it. But that doesn’t mean she won’t go out and blend in with the populace to escape somewhere else.”

 

Jon was silent and frowned. “How do you intend to get in?”

 

He heaved a sigh. “There was a little-known servant’s entrance into the room. Robert used it to bring in women in the early days. After a while, he stopped worrying about if Cersei knew. Once Robert had a larger room made, she took the other over and I used it to sneak in and out of her room.”

 

“Do you think she wouldn’t have it guarded?”

 

“I’m sure she does. That doesn’t mean I can’t get in.”

 

Jon frowned. “So much of our plan depends on you. We have contingencies should you fail, however, I would prefer to not use those.” He sighed then, and Jaime thought he looked tired and as if the weight of the world sat upon his shoulders. “Do you think you could actually kill her? Because that’s what we’re asking of you. I understand that she’s threatened your life three times, nearly succeeded, I suppose. But you and I both know it’s very different to kill someone in the heat of a battle than it is to plot and plan their death. Especially if that someone is a person you love.”

 

“I can’t give you any promises.”

 

“That’s what I need from you. I need a promise that you’ll actually make an attempt. You’re the only person who will get close enough without us lighting the city on fire. Daenerys and I don’t want that to happen. I know from what Tyrion has told us about your time with the Mad King that you don’t want that to happen either. The only way the city falls without a million people dying is resting solely on your shoulders. If you don’t think you can do it, tell me now so we can plan for something else.”

 

Jaime heaved a sigh and thought about it for a moment. Cersei’s duplicitous actions regarding the baby and her agreement with Jon and Daenerys to send troops against the dead. She was willing to kill all the people in King’s Landing to keep someone else from getting the throne. She had already destroyed the Sept of Balor and has proven that she will do what she deems necessary to win. She’s sent assassins to Winterfell to kill them all. She nearly killed him. Nearly killed Tyrion. Sansa. 

 

“I can get close. I can do what you ask.”

 

“You can. But will you?”

 

He nodded. “I will.”

 

Jon sighed. “I ask that you be at our next council meeting. You know as much about King’s Landing as Tyrion. Maybe more. We need other plans if for some reason you fail. We have two. I would feel better if we had something that didn’t put the dragons so close to the keep if she’s had Scorpions set up throughout the city. We’ve found an apothecary who is working to water down the wildfire, but we don’t think they will be able to get to as many barrels as we would like. Most of this relies on you and your ability to hold true to your word. That makes a few of us uneasy.”

 

“Right. Kingslayer. Oathbreaker. Man without honor,” he said snidely. “I rode North to aid you when I didn’t have to...”

 

“And should we fall to our knees and thank you?” Jon scowled. “A few good deeds do not outweigh all you’ve done. I know the circumstances of why you killed the Mad King, and I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same. But you’ve broken your oaths and vows in other ways.”

 

Jaime heaved a heavy sigh and the tilted his head as he looked back at Jon. “Weren’t you Lord Commander of the Night's Watch? Don’t they forsake lands, titles, and wives? Funny how you’ve ended up with all three. Did you do that without breaking your vows?”

 

The dark look in Jon’s eyes gave Jaime pause. He said he’d let him fight for his life, but how much of that did he actually mean? If he provoked him into killing him, that would be unwise as well. “My men killed me.”

 

“Because you allowed Wildlings beyond the Wall. Wasn’t that something you were also sworn to prevent? I’ve done horrible things, admittedly, but don’t sit in judgment of me,  _ your grace _ . Others might cast you in the same light.” Jaime stood then. “As for Sansa, I’ll treat her with honor because that’s what she deserves. If you fear that I’ll do anything else, take my head.”

 

The door opened, Daenerys, Tyrion, and Davos entered. Jaime glanced over his shoulder at them then back at Jon. 

 

“Jaime...Jon,” she said as she entered the room, her hands folded in front of her. “What are we discussing?”

 

Jaime looked over at a nervous Tyrion and back to Jon. “The past,” Jaime answered. 

 

Daenerys frowned. “I think we could all agree that the past is best left in the past.”

 

Jon stood then. “We were also discussing plans once we reached King’s Landing.”

 

Daenerys didn’t look like she accepted that explanation, but she went with it. “And?”

 

“I’ve asked that Jaime attend our next council meeting as he might have more insight into King's Landing and how to sneak around the Red Keep than even Tyrion.”

 

Daenerys looked at Tyrion and then Jon. “Everyone give me a moment with the king,” she said.

 

Jaime nodded and exited the room with Tyrion and Davos. The older man closed the door behind him. “How close were you to being killed?”

 

Jaime sighed. “Closer than I want to contemplate.”

 

Jaime hadn’t turned to leave before the door opened again and Daenerys ushered them all into the room. “Gentlemen, we have bigger issues than what happens behind closed doors between adults. We have to work together towards a common goal.”

 

Jon frowned. “Aye. Common goals.”

 

*~*

 

Jaime sat with Tormund later that night in the hall as they ate. It appeared to him that the ginger wildling didn’t actually care that other people hated him. The Wildlings weren’t exactly the favorite people of the Northron soldiers and lords either. Jaime appreciated that the Wildlings were at least honest about their thoughts and intentions.

 

Tormund smiled into his stew. “You realize that Snow’s sister has been staring at you since you sat down.”

 

Jaime looked at her and she smiled at him. “Yes, but you’ll also notice that  _ Snow _ , as you call him, is seated beside her and has been glaring at me as well.”

 

He smirked. “One wants to kill you, the other wants to fuck you. Sounds about right. So long as you get the one before the other.”

 

“I don’t think he’d care for you speaking of his sister in that way.”

 

He shrugged. “I’ve said worse. Done worse. What happened earlier?”

 

“You mean after you and Tyrion left? I was summoned. Received a few threats then asked to cooperate and help them.”

 

“And? Did he tell you to stay away from his sister? Banish you from the keep? Cut your balls off and put them in this stew?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then it seems to me that you’re faring alright.”

 

Jaime smirked. “I suppose I am.”

 

Brienne sat beside Tormund and Podrick next to Jaime. “Where have you been?” Tormund asked. “You’ve left me here to entertain him and he’s dull.”

 

Podrick smirked from beside Jaime but ate his stew and Brienne looked at the Wildling, a slight smile on her face. “I was tending to something for Lady Sansa.”

 

“What?”

 

“A lady’s business,” she said as she began eating the stew. 

 

Jaime looked at the head table and noticed that Daenerys and Jon were speaking and the man was actually smiling at something she said. Good, maybe she would distract him. He glanced at Sansa who was still staring at him and blushed prettily as Bran said something to her. He wanted to just get her alone for a few moments, just to kiss her, touch her, but they were now being watched closely. Harder. Which meant if he didn’t want word to get back to her brother, they would have to be careful.

 

*~*

 

He lay staring up at the ceiling when he heard his lock twitch and reached for his knife beside his bed. The door opened and closed and the person removed their hood and he smiled to see Sansa. He put his knife back on the table and sat up.

 

“Taking a risk, aren’t you?”

 

She removed her cloak and he was momentarily distracted by her shift as she sat beside him. “Maybe I feel you’re worth a risk,” she said as she leaned forward to kiss him.

 

“Is this the task you set Brienne on? Getting the key to my room?”

 

She shook her head. “I had her get the skeleton key. Claimed I lost mine.”

 

He chuckled. “We’ll talk later about how weak that excuse is,” he said as he cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to his. He leaned back on the pillows and pulled her down with him. Her hair fell around them and with the little candle flicker in the room, her face almost appeared to be on fire. 

 

Jaime sighed against her lips and felt her smile. “I feel like you’ve missed me.”

 

She brushed her fingers around his lips. “Your arrogance is showing,” she whispered.

 

“I have a beautiful woman sneaking into my room. How do I react any other way?”

 

Sansa tilted her head as she brushed her thumb along his bottom lip before she leaned in and kissed him again. “I actually had a purpose for this visit other than this.”

 

Jaime gripped her thigh and pulled it over his hips so her knees were on either side of his hips. “You can talk,” he said as his lips moved over her neck as his hand moved over her thigh, her hip, and up to caress the side of her breast.

 

She sighed as she moved her fingers through his hair. “I can’t think when you’re doing that.” He placed several kisses along her throat and then untied the front of her shift, but she put her hands on his chest then sat back, resting her weight over him, causing him to groan as she settled against his hard cock. “I heard you talked to Jon.”

 

He furrowed his brow as he stared up at her. “Word travels fast.”

 

“When it’s gossip worth knowing. Is it true?”

 

He nodded. “Yes. I spoke with your brother. And lived to tell the tale.”

 

“And?”

 

“And what? He didn’t kill me or banish me. As I was told earlier, seems I’m doing rather well.” She frowned he sat up to wrap his arms around her. “Sansa. You’re not going to make him happy about it. You’re not going to make everyone in the North suddenly happy with a Lannister courting a Stark. There isn’t any sort of decree that will make that so. You know it.”

 

She rested her hands on his shoulders and nodded. “I know. But I could at least have the support of my brother.”

 

He leaned his forehead against her sternum and sighed. “What would you have me do?”

 

Sansa shook her head. “I don’t know.”

 

Jaime looked up at her and brought her lips to his once more, sliding his tongue against hers. Both arms were around her and he used his good hand to tug down on the shoulder of her shift, and he kissed the top of her breast as it was exposed. He followed the line of a white scar as he finally revealed the rosy peak where even the white scar cut through her pink areola. He heaved a sigh and traced the scar with his tongue as she adjusted over him and her fingers moved through his hair. She gasped as he took he pink nipple into his mouth, his hand coming up to cup the weight of it. Her skin tasted like salt and something sweet that he was sure was her, almost like honey. 

 

She suddenly pushed both arms of her shift down her body, allowing it to pool at her hips. His teeth scraped lightly over the tip and she instinctively thrust down against him. He groaned in reaction to feeling her grinding her hips against his. He slipped his hand down to her hip, his other arm wrapped around her bottom, pulling her down fully against him and helped guide her into a rhythm that had her dropping her head back, the tips of her hair brushing against his thighs.

 

He went back to her breast, making sure to lick, nip, and suck until she shivered in his arms. She brought his mouth back to her and she drove her tongue into his mouth, taking control of the kiss as she rolled her hips against his. Her pace quickened and Jaime was beyond anything more than grinding up to her as he clutched her tight. She bit her lip as she had one hand pressed against his shoulder, the other balanced on his raised knee. She was hot against him, able to feel that between their small clothes which he would quickly discard at the most convenient moment. The urge to roll her to her back and fuck her into the mattress was so strong that he had to mentally shake himself not to do it. Everything with Sansa was an experiment for her, letting her grow comfortable and had to be about more than his own needs. 

 

It was a new experience for Jaime. Everything about his previous experiences with sex had always been selfish. Never caring what could happen to them if someone found out, taking what they could when they could. It was always frantic and hurried. But this was different. Allowing Sansa to find what she liked, what she was comfortable doing, what they were comfortable doing together. He felt her nails dig into his thigh and she released a sound that had him holding her tighter against him, his lips finding her nipple once more. That seemed to be all she needed for she grasped him to her harder and her hips jerked against his. He frantically thrust up against her as he felt the familiar tightening in his balls and finally buried his face against her unbound breasts as he groaned her name.

 

She held him to her, pressing her head against his as they both tried to regain some semblance of breathing normally. As it was, Jaime thought his heart would beat from his chest. He felt her fingers gently scraping against his scalp and he knew he’d fall asleep if she kept that up. However, she began to move and slipped her arms back into the shift. She went about trying to tie the top, but every time she got it almost done, he’d pull on the string to undo her work. 

 

She let out a throaty laugh. “Stop.”

 

He shook his head. “No. I don’t want you to leave.”

 

She dropped her hands to his shoulders. “And what would we do if I stayed?”

 

“Sleep, for a bit,” he said with a chuckle. “And then I intend to explore every inch of your body with my mouth.”

 

She released a sigh that was nearly a moan. “Don’t tempt me.”

 

He cupped her breast in his hand and brushed his thumb over the hardened peak of her nipple. “But that’s just it, my lady, I want to tempt you. I want you as consumed with me as I am with you.”

 

Sansa captured his face in her hands and his green eyes met her blue. “Don’t you know you already have that? I can barely concentrate anymore and it’s entirely your fault. I drift off in my thoughts and they’re always wicked and involve you,” she said before she ran her thumb along his bottom lip, “and this distracting mouth of yours.”

 

“Let me distract you more,” he offered as he brought her lips do to his. 

 

However, she broke away and smiled as she tried to disentangle herself from him. “Jaime...” she whispered as he had untied the laces again and once more had her breast in his mouth. “You’re making it hard to leave,” she said softly.

 

“Good,” he whispered against her skin. “I want to make it impossible.” He rolled her to her side and kissed a line from her breast to her mouth. “Stay with me.”

 

She brushed her fingers along his jaw and he could see she was truly contemplating it. “I want to...” she said with a sigh. “If anyone finds out, though...”

 

He leaned in and kissed her. “I won’t tell.”

 

Sansa heaved a sigh. “I’m a great fool,” she said as she leaned in and kissed him. She took his hand in hers and guided it up her thigh, sliding her shift along with it. “If I’m staying, though, I want your mouth like the other morning.”

 

He nearly growled against her skin. “As my lady desires.”

 

*~*

 

Jaime awoke not to light coming through the window but of the loss of heat against his side. He sat up to see Sansa slipping on her shift which had been discarded the night before. He glanced at the windows and noticed that it was still dark outside. He sat up on his elbow and watched her don her cloak.

 

“What are you doing? It’s not morning,” he said softly.

 

She turned back to him and smiled as she sat on the bed beside him. “No, but I don’t need to be here when the sun rises,” she leaned in and kissed him, but moved away before he could wrap his arms around her and bring her back to the bed with him. “I’ll see you for sparring with Brienne?”

 

He captured her hand in his and kissed the back of it. “You mean when I get to see you wear your leather breeches? Try to keep me away.”

 

“And perhaps you can escort me back to my room when we’re done.”

 

Jaime nodded. “It would be my honor.”

 

Sansa leaned forward and kissed him once more before she stood and moved to the door. “Lock this behind me,” she said as she pulled her hood over her head and he climbed from the bed as she slipped through the door. He watched her make her way to the stairs leading to her room then shut and locked the door. He crawled into bed and pulled the pillow against his face as it smelled like her. Her blue eyes, red hair, and creamy white skin his last thoughts as he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I've been so slow to update. My mom was in the hospital last week and it's just been crazy. I hope to still get updates for this out at least once a week. Maybe more frequent, but I make no promises.


	63. Jon XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets broody and asked to make some hard choices...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot is being asked on Jon. I know this. But let's go on this little journey together. A King's job is never done.
> 
> ALSO - go nominate your favorite Jonerys fics of the year! Doesn't have to be this one! Make sure the stories you love get represented!  
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSegqfcNBpP3He_WwR1ULadcEWl8M5eb2DmKRO17DBMEEPt6WA/viewform

 

**JON**

 

Jon removed his sword belt and leaned Longclaw against the table beside the bed. Daenerys was undoing the braids in her hair and humming to herself. He watched her for a moment, mesmerized by her fingers combing through her hair, a relaxed look on her beautiful face. There were still times where he felt as if he was dreaming. He remembered so vividly feeling out of place in the world, that he would never be worth anything and to take the black would be the only service he could ever give. The passage of time had proven to be a tricky thing.

 

“You’re staring, Jon Snow,” she said as she glanced over her shoulder and looked at him, a soft smile playing at her lips.

 

“Lost in thought.”

 

She got the last braid out, then turned to face him. “And what has your mind?”

 

Jon removed his doublet, followed by his boots, leaving him in his tunic and leathers. “Mostly you.”

 

Daenerys had already changed out of her clothes, her handmaid helping her out of the intricate dress and her leathers. He knew why she wore them. Understood her reasoning. He hated it for her, though. Even now she didn’t feel safe to not have them beneath her clothes. She stood and crossed the room to stand in front of him. She linked her arms around his waist as his hands moved over her upper arms. “And what of me?”

 

“I never felt like I belonged anywhere. Even in the Night’s Watch, I knew how to fight. I wasn’t sent there by family or lack thereof. I chose to go. Not realizing until I was there what I would be joining. The only person who told me the truth was Tyrion,” he sighed and her eyes met his, holding her gaze as he spoke. “How did I go from that...to this?”

 

She heaved a sigh. “I know that feeling. Maybe we endured all we did to get to this. That’s all I can think of, my lovely Jon Snow.”

 

He narrowed his eyes a bit. “I don’t know if I like that you call me _lovely_.”

 

Daenerys chuckled. “Do you see it as a challenge to your manhood? Because I assure you, I have no doubts about the type of man you are.”

 

Jon leaned down and kissed her, his tongue venturing out to taste her lips. She opened beneath him while her hands slid beneath his tunic over the taut skin. His fingers moved through her hair and he nipped at her bottom lip when he felt her thumb slide over his nipple. “This is a silly little robe, Dany,” he whispered before he slid his hands over her breasts and to the sash holding it together.

 

“You should help me take it off,” she said against his lips. He tugged on the knot and it fell away, allowing the robe to fall open. He tugged on the silky fabric and it fell to the floor. His lips moved along her jaw to her ear and lightly bit the lobe as he moved his hands over her skin beneath her ass and lifted her, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist.

 

When he made it to the bed, her legs stayed around his waist while her hands tugged on his tunic. He released his hold on her to help her remove it, then started venturing down her body and she grasped both of his hands as they had cupped her breasts. He frowned. “How long will they ache?”

 

“A while,” was all she said as he moved his lips over her abdomen. She grasped his hair and pulled him back up to her. “Take off your leathers,” she ordered and he was happy to comply. When she pushed him to his back, he waited for her to straddle his hips and take him inside her, but she hesitated, obviously contemplating her next move and turned to face his feet. He groaned when he felt her lips close over the tip of his cock, the heat of her mouth causing his skin to prickle.

 

He hated he couldn’t see her mouth taking him in as it was one of his favorite things to watch. But she shifted again, throwing her thigh across his shoulder and straddling him. Jon raised his fingers to her dripped slit, stroking his fingers over the wet flesh. She shivered against him and he thrust into her mouth when he felt her lips close around him. He pulled her hips down to his face and made a long sweep through her cunt and he felt her moan around his cock and it sent shockwaves throughout his body. He slicked his fingers up with the wetness of her and slid one inside her. Her fingers busied with stroking his hard cock and he made shallow thrusts into her mouth as he flicked his tongue over her clit before bringing the nub into his mouth. She pressed against his mouth as she released him and cried out his name, her hand still stroking.

 

But just as he was working into a good rhythm, she released him and crawled towards the end of the bed. All he could do was watch as she kept her back to him then guided him inside her. He reached for one of the pillows and tucked it beneath his head and watched as she slid up and down his cock, her hands propped on his thighs. He released a groan when she rolled her hips then went back thrusting against him again. His fingers lightly scraped over her ass and she shivered above him and he had to close his eyes for a moment, the sight too much when he felt her cunt clench around his cock.

 

Jon did moan when she moved off of him. His eyes flew open as he looked at her from her perch at his side. She was staring down at him, a strange look on her face. “What’s wrong?” She leaned down and kissed him. Daenerys moved to her back and pulled Jon on top of her. He settled between her thighs, their chests pressed together. “Daenerys?” he whispered.

 

“Bad memory,” she said softly. He felt a wave of guilt rush through him, wondering what it was that had caused it and how he could fix it. But she leaned forward and kissed him. “Like this.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Inside me, Jon Snow,” she commanded. He was still unsure, but her hand moved along his face, her thumb tracing over his lips. “I want to look at you,” she whispered then moved forward to place several lingering kisses on his lips.

 

He took his cock in hand and slid inside her, keeping their bodies pressed together.  

 

*~*

 

He knew she was nearly asleep by how her breathing had evened out, but his curiosity wouldn’t quiet his mind. “Dany,” he whispered. She gave a slight hum to let him know she was awake, but barely. “What was the bad memory?”

 

He looked down and saw her lashes flutter. Instead of looking into his eyes, however, they focused on the curved scar above his heart and her fingers traced over it. “When I was with Drogo...Before you, I wouldn’t let a man take me like that. For some reason, I got a flash in my head and it caused me to panic.”

 

He shifted to his elbow and turned to face her. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

 

She heaved a sigh. “It hadn’t been an issue.” She pushed him to his back once more and snuggled into his arms. “I love what we do to one another, Jon. Together. We’re built on trust. Equals. That doesn’t mean that I don’t still struggle with the past. It has nothing to do with you,” she said softly. “You, my _lovely_ Jon Snow, are what I’ve wanted for a long time. You don’t see me as someone to dominate or for my power. You see me as the woman you love and you’ve never been anything but respectful to me.”

 

He hugged her to him tighter and kissed her brow while her arm stretched across his chest. “I would never want you to feel any different, Daenerys. If you ever do...”

 

“Believe me, you’ll know,” she said as she kissed his jaw. “Now, I’m exhausted, husband. Let me sleep.”

 

He smiled against her hair. “As you wish, wife.”

 

*~*

 

Jon was seated near the map table, holding the Stark direwolf in his hands as he was soon joined by Daenerys. He’d left their room before she had awoken that morning. He’d taken his horse out to ride around the scorched earth that surrounded Winterfell. He wondered if anything would ever grow there. Even with the snow covering the ground, he could still see the patches of black earth. He looked up at Daenerys and she gave him a small smile before she closed the door behind her then walked toward him and sat in the chair beside him. “What has you brooding this morning?” she questioned.

 

He heaved a sigh and placed the wolf back on the table with the other wolves. “Thinking about the land outside the gates. Did we destroy it with the fire? Will it ever be green again?”

 

She was silent for a moment and heaved a great sigh. “There are two things I’ve been meaning to discuss with you. It’s not something I want to share with either of our hands and I refuse to bring this conversation into our bedroom. But your mention of land and the future brought these two topics to mind. I’ve been trying to figure out how to discuss them with you.”

 

He closed his eyes. “The last time I got a preface like this, Sansa told me she was with Jaime Lannister. Is this that sort of news?”

 

Daenerys frowned. “I’m not going to present you with a scale on which to judge information given to you.” She took his hand in hers and he watched her carefully. “I spoke with Yara about her child. She has no intentions of letting it live. She says that it will be killed when it’s born.”

 

He sat up in his chair. “What?”

 

“You heard me.”

 

“That’s barbaric,” he was disgusted at the thought and his first reaction was to try to stop her from doing it.

 

“It’s not much different than what people do with dwarves or the disfigured when they’re born. She doesn’t want to raise Euron’s child. Given what she’s been through, I don’t know that I blame her.” She smoothed her hand over her own stomach and Jon squeezed her hand a bit tighter. “I’m telling you because you need to know.”

 

“I think I would rather not know,” he whispered. “Is there any way to dissuade her?”

 

Daenerys heaved a sigh and shook her head. “I don’t think so. There was one other thing. She wants a pardon for Theon.”

 

He shook his head. “No.”

 

“Jon...”

 

“No. I’m not going to pardon him for murder. I’m not going to pardon him for betraying Robb. He can stay on the Iron Islands with his sister when all of this is through.”

 

She sighed. “She says that Theon wants to live in the North...”

 

“He should have thought of that before he took Winterfell,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll not hear anything else about it.”

 

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “Oh, you won’t?”

 

“I won’t. Not about this.”

 

“Am I your queen?" She spat. "Your equal?”

 

“You are,” he answered, knowing he had angered her with his statement. But he would not negotiate how he felt on this issue.

 

“Then shouldn’t I have a say in what happens?”

 

“On most points, I would agree. Not this one. I’ve been asked to forgive a lot of things done to my family. Theon is here now because he finally did something worthy by rescuing my sister. He saved Sansa. It’s the only reason I spared his life when I laid eyes on him again. But let’s not forget that the reason the Boltons had Winterfell and Sansa in the first place was because of Theon. Bran and Rickon had to leave their home because of Theon. I’ll not kill him, but I will never pardon him.”

 

He stood and moved away from her to look out the window down at the courtyard. She joined him moments later, her arm lacing around his and she released a heavy sigh. He could tell her anger had dissipated and he only hoped that it meant she understood his point and he had won this argument. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft, soothing, and if not for the content of her words, he would have been comforted by it. “I have asked you to forgive a lot of things I don’t know that I would forgive. I think part of that is I know my temper. I know who I am. In the same vein, though, I know who you are. I’ve asked you to do things I can’t do because I know you have the strength to do them. I’ll not push you. It’s your decision and I told Yara that. I won’t make it for you and I won’t ask you to give more than you can.”

 

He hung his head. “It’s hard. It seems like everywhere I look is an enemy of my family. People who caused those I love to suffer or die. Bran and Rickon left the safety of Winterfell because of Theon. When I last saw Rickon he was only six. And then he was killed in front of me. Would any of that have happened had Theon not betrayed Robb? Rickon is dead. Robb is dead. What sort of brother am I to forgive and pardon the man who did that?”

 

Daenerys sighed. “You don’t have to.”

 

“Don’t I?”

 

She shook her head. “The agreement with Yara was mine. This is a new bargain she’s striking to save the brother that saved her. You can’t fault her for that.”

 

He faced her but kept his head hanging low, staring at her fingers where they wrapped around his arm. He felt resolute in his decision but he knew Daenerys and felt that even if he shut down every discussion they had about it, he would still feel conflicted. “How could I pardon him and not have the North revolt against me? They’ll be furious enough once they find out about Jaime and Sansa.”

 

“Yes, well, aren’t these the same lords who refused to help you take back Winterfell? It then rested on the Eyrie and Littlefinger to come to your aid? Seems to me their loyalty wavers with the wind.”

 

“Perhaps. But we are depending on their support when we march south.”

 

Daenerys moved over to the map and stared at it. “Do we need it?” She asked as she looked up at him. “We have the Unsullied, Dothraki, the Eyrie, two dragons, the Iron Fleet and the Kingslayer who says he can infiltrate the castle and kill his sister before our armies are ever needed. If they are so easily swayed, perhaps we don’t need them.”

 

Jon’s shoulders sagged. “We’ve been trying to get them on our side for a long time. Now you’ve decided we don’t need them.”

 

“No. I’m asking if we do. And think of it objectively and not as a Northman. Not as a Stark. As a king of the entire continent. Do we need the Northron forces?”

 

Jon examined the map and frowned. The truth was they probably didn’t in terms of force. But the symbol it would mean to the rest of the kingdoms, that the hardest to win over, the ones that were notoriously stubborn had sided with he and Daenerys would send a powerful message. “As a fighting force,” he said with a shake of his head. “No. But as a symbol to the rest of the kingdom, yes. The North is the largest of the seven kingdoms. It’s also home to people who value honor and loyalty. Maybe to a fault. Everyone else would realize what it means for them to ride with us and stand at our sides.”

 

She was silent for a moment and then smiled. “I agree.”

 

He furrowed his brow and tilted his head at her quizzically. “Then why ask?”

 

Daenerys moved closer to him. “Because you need to think more like a King of Seven Kingdoms and less like the King of the North. There are more people than just those here that need you thinking for them. You’ve more than proven yourself at strategy in battle. Politics is different. You hate that part, I know. But sometimes it’s necessary.”

 

He shook his head. “It still feels like it’s being used as a game.”

 

“It is. Never question that there are those who thrive on the politics and the deceit. You and I would much rather people be straightforward, even if we don’t like what they have to say.”

 

“Then be straightforward, Daenerys. I feel as if we’re talking in circles around something.”

 

She smiled but it quickly left her face. “Jaime Lannister.”

 

Jon rolled his eyes. “Haven’t we discussed him enough over the last two days?”

 

“You told me that he intends to marry Sansa. Have you considered where they will live?”

 

He frowned. “Winterfell.”

 

She tilted her head at him and shook her head. “And do you think your people would allow your sister to marry a Lannister?”

 

“What choice would they have?”

 

“They could...as you say, revolt. It’s a good match as far as the rest of the Kingdoms are concerned. Starks and Lannisters putting aside their differences to join houses. However, the damage done to the North by the Lannisters, and specifically to your family, might pose a problem. _The North Remembers._ You won’t pardon Theon. But perhaps you should pardon Jaime.”

 

“No.”

 

“Jon, compromises have to be made...”

 

“And my family is not where one will be made. If Sansa wants to marry Jaime Lannister that’s her choice. I don’t have to condone it.”

 

Daenerys heaved a sigh. “I think you do. I’m not saying this choice has to be made today. In fact, I think it’s best if we encourage Jaime to keep any talk of asking for her hand to a minimum until after we have the Iron Throne. Let him prove himself and his word and that he’s more than an Oathbreaker. Allow him to be a man of honor. But that still might not be enough,” she cautioned. “As I said about Theon, you don’t have to make a decision today.”

 

She moved to sit in the chair he had abandoned and he frowned as he looked over his shoulder at her. “Will you pardon him if I don’t?”

 

Daenerys put her hands on her lap and sighed. “It wouldn’t do for us to be in disagreement over this. Would you ever forgive me if I did?” He hung his head and stared at the map. “I wouldn’t go behind your back and declare something like that. Not unless we had come to an accord. You’re my king and I’m your queen. But we’re also husband and wife and I wouldn’t want you to feel you couldn’t trust me the way I do you.”

 

He sat beside her and rubbed a hand over his chin. “I do trust you,” he whispered.

 

She turned his face towards her and she nodded. “I know. But you wouldn’t if I decided this without you. If we’re to right this world, to start on repairing all the damage that has been done, we can’t do it if we’re at odds.”

 

“I don’t know that I will ever be in agreement with a pardon for Theon or Jaime,” he answered. “It feels like a betrayal to the people who raised me. My family.”

 

She took his hand in hers. “We’ll discuss it later. No decisions today,” she said as the door opened and Tyrion entered.

 

He stopped near the door however as he looked at them. “Am I interrupting?”

 

Daenerys smirked at Jon and turned to Tyrion. “Would you care if you were?”

 

He shrugged. “Not particularly. The others were all in the hall breaking their fast. They’ll be up soon.”

 

Daenerys stood at the map table and placed the Stark wolf with the others that were traveling South to Storm’s End. Jon tuned Tyrion out as he began speaking to Daenerys of a minor squabble amongst the Dothraki. Instead, his mind swirled over the idea of a pardon for Theon. While the man had saved Sansa, and that was heroic, how many other atrocities had he witnessed while in Winterfell under Ramsay? How could it not feel like a betrayal to Robb, a man he greatly admired, his brother in the ways that mattered to him, if he was to tell the world that he forgave Theon?

 

Theon had spent more time in Winterfell than he ever had in his family keep. He grew up with them, trained with them, rode, played, and laughed with them. And in the end, he had betrayed a man who would have died for him. He had forgiven Theon for what he could. He knew he couldn’t give more.

 

As for Jaime, he would allow the Kingslayer to prove himself true to his word. It would never be enough to make him believe that he deserved Sansa, but it might quell his urge to rip his throat out.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone, for reading.
> 
> My mom is doing much better! Thank you for all the love and support. 
> 
> I love reading the debates in the comments section! It gets me through most of my days. I could never have hoped that I would receive such love for this story and it still amazes me. Thank you all for sticking through the fic to this point! You're troopers. I don't know how many more chapters I have to write until I'm finished posting. I hope, though, that you'll continue to stick with me and come along for the ride!


	64. Sansa XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's happiness comes to a crashing halt after a conversation with her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let me start off by saying that this chapter is a shoutout to some amazing ladies! @NoOrdinaryLines, @FrostbitePanda, @meisie, @jaqtkd, and @sparkles59! You ladies have made this so much better because of your support and it's nice to share the writing experience with such wonderful and talented people!
> 
> Second note - there's a lot of speculation as to what should or shouldn't happen going forward, but I will say what I've been saying to most everyone in the comments. "I have a plan." 
> 
> ALSO - go nominate your favorite Jonerys fics of the year! Doesn't have to be this one! Make sure the stories you love get represented!  
> [NOMINATE HERE](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSegqfcNBpP3He_WwR1ULadcEWl8M5eb2DmKRO17DBMEEPt6WA/viewform)

**SANSA**

 

Sansa leaned back into Jaime as his mouth moved from her ear down to her mouth. She moaned when his hand slid over the front of her tunic to cup her breast, rolling the nub into a hard peak. She couldn’t stop herself from grinding her leather-clad arse against the obvious bulge of his cock. His other arm held her tightly against him and she gasped as his fingers pinched her nipple. 

 

“You did well today,” he said in her ear, the deep timbre of his voice fluttered over her skin and caused her to shiver.

 

He tugged her tunic from her leathers and undid the laces. She smiled before she placed kisses along his jaw. “You’re doing well right now.”

 

His teeth bit lightly on the lobe of her ear and she let out a whimper when she felt his fingers dip inside the laces of her leathers and trace over her slit. His touch was languid and she wanted more. Faster. But despite how she angled her hips or whispered the words, he kept up the slow pace. She felt she was going mad and moved her own hand down her body to assist him. He captured her hand in his and made a tsking noise against the shell of her ear. “Be patient or I’ll stop,” he whispered. 

 

She nodded and he kissed her again as his fingers went back to their slow torture. Jamie continued this slow pace even as a knock sounded at the door. “Y-yes?”

 

“Lady Sansa, I’ve finished training with Podrick. I’ve come to escort you.”

 

Her mind raced and she bit back a groan as Jaime slid his fingers up to her clit. “You should go eat, Brienne. I know you haven’t yet...broken your fast,” the last words came out in a rush.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes!” She squeaked.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Yes, I just...hit my knee on the bed,” her head dropped back to Jaime’s shoulder as his finger made quick circles around her clit and she didn’t know how she was still standing let alone talking.

 

“I’ll come find you when I’m done.”

 

“Very good,” she said firmly. She hoped she would leave so she could enjoy the pleasure that was moving from her cunt throughout the rest of her body. She gripped his wrist, vaguely aware of Brienne’s armor clanging as it moved away from her door. “Don’t stop,” she gasped as he thrust against her.

 

“Sansa,” he moaned against her neck before he gently used his teeth at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Her climax rushed through her, glad for his arms around her holding her up or she knew she would have fallen to the floor. He claimed her lips again, swallowing her moans with his mouth. With his arms around her, his lips pressed to hers, she felt content. 

 

*~*

 

Bran read over the ledger as he sat beside Sansa. She was going over the accounts that helped maintain the keep with Bran as he had found her after her training with Brienne that morning and asked for her help, effectively cutting off her rendezvous with Jaime. With everything that was happening, she sometimes forgot that he had asked her to teach him what he didn’t know. He finally looked up at her and smiled. “You’re good at this. Running the keep.”

 

She gave him a soft smile. “I’ve been preparing for a long time. I would hope that I’ve managed to figure out how to do something right,” she said as she stood and reached for another book and handed it to Bran. “This helped me when I was learning. It’s more for a Lady’s perspective, but it still might help.”

 

“Thank you,” he said as he examined the spine then looked at her. “I want to learn how to do this. I need to be more than the three-eyed raven. I need to be Brandon Stark, too. I want to be. I shut so much of myself off when I became the raven. When I started having flashes of what happened to our family, feeling any of it hurt too much. I stopped feeling. It was the way I needed to experience all of it. To be objective and look at the bigger picture of the Night King. But now I’m remembering who I was and I’m starting to feel what I had pushed away.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Anger. Fear. Despair. Regret.”

 

Sansa took a deep breath. If she could turn off those emotions, she would. She would never feel any of those things again. What would make him want to? “If you could choose not feel those things, why would you?”

 

He smiled slightly. “They make me feel alive. I feel anger at what happened to Father, Mother, Robb, and Rickon. Jojen and Hodor. So many people we love were lost or taken from us. I feel fear because I don’t know what’s coming even though I can see what’s currently happening. I can’t predict the future. Despair because I don’t know how to help Jon and Daenerys but I want to desperately. And regret...I have only one real regret, but I think you might be able to help me rectify it.”

 

Sansa tilted her head and then gave a slight nod. “Anything you need, Bran. You know that.”

 

“Meera.” He said softly. “I think about her a lot. My protector. My friend. More.” He blushed and Sansa put a reassuring hand on his. “I hurt her. I let her leave and...I regret that I did so and didn’t tell her how much she meant to me. I shouldn’t have let her go.”

 

“Have you sent a raven?”

 

“She went home. There’s magic around it. Even my sight can’t penetrate the haze.”

 

“A courier then? Have you written anything?”

 

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t know what to say.”

 

A knock sounded at the door and Sansa stood to open it, Theon on the other side.  She gave him a brief smile and stepped aside to allow him entry. “Lady Sansa. Lord Bran.” Bran remained quiet as Sansa allowed him in further and he took the chair in front of them. “This was your Lady mother’s solar,” Theon said. “I don’t know that I ever stepped foot in here.”

 

“Father was the one who dealt with the boys when we got too unruly,” Bran offered.

 

He nodded, the expression on his face grim. “I betrayed my real family when I took over Winterfell. I live with so much regret for my actions. Thankfully,” he started, his voice shaking as he spoke, “Jon didn’t kill me when we set eyes on one another again. By every right, he could have. Still could, actually.”

 

“He won’t kill you,” Bran stated.

 

“But I do need to make some sort of peace with you, Bran. I was a fool who...I was a fool. Betraying Robb and taking Winterfell. Ser Rodrik. Those two farm boys. I’m sorry for what I did to you. I live with it every day.”

 

Sansa looked over at Bran who’s usually impassive face showed something close to fury. “You are the one who has to live with what you did to Robb. To me and Rickon. Ser Rodrik. You were raised beside us like you were our brother. Robb thought of you as his brother. And you let your father, a madman, convince you to turn your back on everything  _ our _ father had taught us. Jon’s already forgiven you for what he can.” Theon’s eyes met Bran’s, surprise etched on his face and Sansa realized that he must have said something that Theon had been keeping to himself. Bran had a way of making people uncomfortable with all he knew. “I was a cripple and we were forced from our home. Because we were forced to leave, Rickon ended up in the hands of the Umbers who betrayed him to Ramsay. Rickon died.” He stopped speaking and Sansa could see him stealing himself. “But you saved Sansa. Even after everything Ramsay did to you, even after you were so beaten down and broken, you jumped and took a chance to help her.”

 

Bran turned his gaze to her and she watched as he reached for her hand. “You know all too well what she suffered under his hands. What you suffered. I’ve seen it all. How you helped her escape. How you helped your own sister. I’ve even seen you arguing with Yara in favor of not killing her baby.” He took a deep breath. Sansa turned her gaze to Theon, unaware that Yara was contemplating killing her child and even that Theon would argue in favor of sparing its life. “So, what is it you want? Yara wants Jon to pardon you, but I wouldn’t depend on that happening.”

 

Theon looked Bran in the eye, and Sansa realized how much he had changed since he’d left her in the woods with Brienne. She was thankful for it. It had probably saved lives now that he was able to get back some of who Theon used to be. “I don’t want to live on the Iron Islands, that’s true. When all of this is over, that’s not my home. It never was. The North will always be the biggest part of me. I should have embraced that a long time ago. Greyjoy and Stark. The war may settle all of this for us, but if I live, I would like to live in the North. But I can’t do that.”

 

Sansa squeezed Bran’s hand and then interrupted. “You could never live at Winterfell. But perhaps still the North, just..a little farther south,” she said softly. She would never forget what he did for her. She knew what he suffered under Ramsay’s hand. He was the only one who truly knew the horrors she had suffered. She would forever feel empathy for Theon.

 

“No, I would simply want to live somewhere to allow my house to die in peace. After this, whatever children Yara has won’t be Greyjoy. I can’t have children, but I don’t want to live anywhere else.”

 

Bran sat back in his seat. “I’ll ask again. What do you want?”

 

He shook his head. “Nothing you can actually give me,” he said softly. “I wanted to apologize. I’m sorry for what I did. I am sorry, Bran.”

 

“Jon will decide if he’s going to pardon you,” Bran started. “I don’t have that power, and if I did, I don’t know that I would grant you amnesty,” he looked down at the table. 

 

Theon shook his head and frowned. “I wouldn’t ask you to, Bran. I simply came in here to apologize to you. I’m sorry for taking Winterfell. I’m sorry for chasing you from your home. I’m sorry for...Rickon. Ser Rodrik. All of it.”

 

Sansa watched him stand and leave and looked at her brother. Bran frowned and heaved a deep sigh. “You would argue in favor of amnesty.”

 

“Selfishly, I would. Who knows what would have happened had Theon not interfered when he did. Miranda might have succeeded in her goal of maiming me. I could still be under Ramsay’s control. Winterfell could still be under his control,” she frowned. “I know that it would be hard for everyone to accept allowing Theon to stay in the North. But no one knows how broken he was when he finally helped me. I suppose you do because you can see it all. However, as someone who suffered Ramsay, people can only assume how it feels or what we endured.”

 

Bran took her hand once more and leveled a look at her. “Jon is not in favor of pardoning Theon. Nor Jaime.” She rolled her eyes at that statement and Bran rolled his shoulders. “You realize the problem with your relationship, don’t you?”

 

“You mean outside of my family hating it?”

 

“We have reason to hate it, Sansa. To hate him. He pushed me out of a window when I was a boy. I nearly died. I allowed him to stay at the beginning because we needed someone with experience in battles and Jaime had fought against Daenerys and her dragon. But I wouldn’t want you with someone like him even though...it pains me to say I know you’re happy. I feel like you could do better. But that’s not even the real issue. The real issue is that the Northron Lords would rise up against us if you married him and lived here.”

 

Sansa leaned back in her chair and frowned. She knew they would be unhappy, but to rise against their family? “Even after everything? You think they would take issue with who I marry?”

 

“A possible Lannister ruling the North? In what world do you think they would accept it? They take issue with Daenerys and she came North with her dragons and armies and fought off the dead. Jon married her and there are still those who hate her because of her family. Why would you think they would ever accept Jaime Lannister?”

 

She stood then and moved to the window, looking out at the snow white grounds. “I haven’t thought of that. None of it.”

 

“I know. That’s why you and I are speaking about it. There is already talk about you and Jaime. Even some of the soldiers are unhappy about it.”

 

Sansa turned to face him. “And what should I do? He leaves in a few days time with Jon and Daenerys. Should I hope that time helps them come to terms? I feel comfortable with him. I didn’t think I would ever have that, Bran. I know that the life of a lady is meant to serve her people, whether that be her family or...” she felt desperate tears sting her eyes. “I don’t want to give up something that makes me happy because other people hold on too closely to their pride.”

 

“It’s not pride, Sansa. Well, not all of it. Some of it is simply wanting those that hurt us to pay. Why should Jaime get rewarded with you? What has he done? He kept his word, once.”

 

“He helped Brienne. She trusts him.”

 

Bran looked up at her and nodded. “She does. I won’t argue that. But two people don’t make a country. Peace is tentative, at best, now that Jon married Daenerys. You saw Lord Royce and his reaction.”

 

She frowned. “So...what do I do? I care for him deeply, Bran. Do I let him go South and tell him that’s the end?”

 

He sighed. “I don’t know, Sansa. It doesn’t feel like there’s an easy answer. Because, as your brother, I want you to be happy. I know...what you suffered,” he said as he turned his gaze away from her. “I want you to have something worthwhile that makes you forget that. And if not forget it, feel more from it. But...Jaime Lannister is not a man the North will ever accept to sit in Winterfell. I don’t know what will happen when they go South, but perhaps a solution could be found during that time...if all goes well.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “So, hope he doesn’t die and that we can find some solution between now and the end of the war? Is that your advice?”

 

Bran looked up at her with a frown and nodded. “Essentially. That and don’t do anything stupid.”

 

“Such as?”

 

He sighed. “Have a bastard.” Sansa’s face fell and she shook her head. She took a seat in her chair once more and fought the tears. She didn’t know what to do but this entire conversation with Bran had left her feeling nearly hopeless. “I’m sorry, Sansa.”

 

She closed her eyes and wiped at her traitorous tears. “I don’t like it, but...you’re being honest with me. I’ve only thought of myself and what I wanted. Not what this could mean to other people.”

 

Bran tilted his head. “If this does turn out to be what you truly want...I suppose we can figure out something.”

 

She felt her lower lip tremble as she looked at him. “How do I let him go?”

 

*~*

 

Sansa sat staring up at the Godswood trees, feeling her heart aching. She knew Bran was right, and that was the worst part. The North would never accept her being with Jaime Lannister. They cared little for her happiness, only their pride and honor mattered. She was essentially squared down to be a broodmare. All of this made her feel even more wretched. She felt like her entire life was nothing more than showing others what she could bring them. It was selfish to want this. 

 

She heard the gate open and close and glanced over her shoulder to see the object of her thoughts walking towards her. His face was full of concern as he moved to stand in front of her. “I haven’t seen you all day and you weren’t at supper. Are you alright?”

 

She shook her head and nodded for him to sit on the part of the roots that was used as a bench. She preferred the ground, able to wrap herself in her cloak and feel small and insignificant in the woods that had stood longer than anyone knew. “I spoke with my brother and it’s made me see things differently.”

 

Jaime furrowed his brow. “And what did the  _ King _ have to say?”

 

She frowned. “Not Jon. Bran.” He sat up straighter and she frowned. “He brought up a rather excellent point I hadn’t considered. Mainly because I’m happy with you and I felt for once in my life my happiness should mean something. But I’m a person who is sworn to her duty...”

 

“Sansa, what are you talking about?”

 

“The North will never accept us together. Never. And a Stark needs to be in charge in Winterfell. Jon will go to King’s Landing and rule as King. Arya has gone to Storm’s End with Gendry, and she won’t be coming back. Bran...he’s not prepared to be a Lord. That leaves me. A Stark to rule Winterfell.”

 

His shoulders sagged and he looked her sadly. “So, what does this mean? We simply...stop caring for one another? We end whatever this could be because the  _ North _ won’t approve?”

 

She sighed and moved to kneel in front of him. “I don’t want that. I don’t. When I’m with you, I’m happy. I’m comfortable around you. I want you.” His fingers wiped away her tears as she stared at his chest. “I don’t want to stop being together. I don’t. Offer me another solution, please,” she said breathlessly. 

 

He leaned his forehead against hers as he cupped her face with his hand. “I know I’m unworthy of you,” he whispered. “I’m not blind to it. But I don’t want to walk away. I leave in a few days. Are we to avoid one another until then and forget about all of this?”

 

She shook her head and leaned against him. “I don’t want to.”

 

“Then don’t,” he whispered. “I know that’s selfish, but I’ve always been selfish. When I leave, we’ll figure something else out. I’ll have a plan once the war is finished. But until then...”

 

“Jaime,” she said as she lowered her head. “I’m not willing to stop seeing you or being with you while you’re still here. I’m not. I’ll make certain sacrifices later. But I may never see you again and I live with enough regret.”

 

He frowned. “Then I’m confused.”

 

“When you leave with Jon and Daenerys, we both need to accept that this is probably best left alone. Go South, fight in the war, I’ll continue to run Winterfell, but...it’s best if you don’t come back North.”

 

He sighed. “And what of you? What will happen to you?”

 

She frowned. “I suppose, eventually, I’ll find a Lord to marry and run Winterfell.”

 

Sansa felt him tense beneath his fingers. “I hate that idea. I won’t stand around to watch the woman I lo...I won’t do it again.”

 

She realized the slip he made, and though her heart wanted to soar, it didn’t. Instead, it felt as if her world was crumbling before her. Sansa felt she had finally found a man who could love her, who did love her and had to let him go. She frowned. “You won’t. You won’t be here. You’re going South and whatever happens there doesn’t have an influence on what happens here. When you leave...we’ll be done.”

 

He stood and moved away from her and she remained looking at the seat he had vacated. She turned to see him, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. “My entire life has been dictated to me by someone. My father or Cersei. I was finally free of them, free of feeling an obligation of duty,” he said as he turned to face her where she now stood, “and you’re going to let duty interfere?”

 

She shook her head. “I don’t want to,” she said adamantly. “I must.”

 

Jaime took a deep breath. “And what happens until then? We pretend there isn’t this moment where we won’t part ways forever?”

 

Sansa took a deep breath and took his hand in hers. “We enjoy what we can while we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me explain a little about Bran since we don't actually get chapters from his POV. In my head, not sure how well I convey this in the story, Bran has gone through a change. When he became the three-eyed raven he had to shut off all emotion, to ignore it, if for no other reason than his own sanity. Imagine the horrors he witnessed as he looked through the past and present. It was the only way he would survive, but now that his mission against the Night King is over, he's becoming more of who he was, especially being around his family. And in letting himself feel things again, he's feeling the things that we usually feel in abundance anger and fear. So, in this chapter we have Bran becoming more of who he should have been in the first place.
> 
> This is why I had him be the one to have the conversation with Sansa. She was already shutting Jon out as far as listening to him. Arya had an approach of if it makes Sansa happy I won't kill him today. Bran is much more practical. He can see the unease and unrest with the rest of the country. He's much more bigger picture, at this point. But he still cares for her and wants her to be happy. The practical side of him, however, sees the harm of what her relationship could mean and that, under no circumstances, should Jaime Lannister ever have a child to sit in Winterfell.


	65. Gendry XI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of the Roadtrip South with The Hound. They pick up a traveling companion along the way as well as shake out a few ghosts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is brought to you by the band Mumford and Sons because something about banjos makes me think of traveling. Maybe it's my years living in the south? 
> 
> Anyway, to the Discerning Tarts who are filling my life with joy on a daily basis, thank you for your never-ending support and your ability to always be awesome and lovely!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is still reading this story. I'm hoping that you'll enjoy the story progression from here on out. Only one or two more chapters (from different POVs) of them being at Winterfell. Then the fun begins.

 

 

 

  


**Gendry**

 

They approached the Twins and he couldn’t make out the banner that flew from the building. He could see men moving along the upper ramparts, though. The Hound stopped them and he looked at Arya. “Says it's a Tully. The Blackfish is dead. Who the fuck is that?”

 

“My Uncle Edmure. When I killed the Freys I found him in their dungeon and put him at the head of the Twins.”

 

“You?” The Hound questioned. Gendry watched as realization crossed his face. “Of course you’re the one that killed all the Frey’s. No one sees what you did and lets those fuckers live.”

 

Gendry tilted his head before he looked over at the Hound and questioned, “Should we send someone ahead to announce us?”

 

The Hound nodded. “Yes. Never know if it’s a trap.”  He looked behind them and ushered forward one of the soldiers. “You. Go to the keep and tell Edmure Tully that his niece Arya Stark approaches for respite.” The man looked at Arya and she nodded.

 

Arya climbed from her horse and Gendry followed suit, one of the men coming to take the reins. The Hound gave them distance as Arya stood staring at the fortress.

 

“Last time I was here I killed over fifty men. Baked two into pies,” she said softly.

 

“Hopefully they’ll give us chicken,” he said softly and the smile he received was worth it. He moved to stand in front of her, blocking her view. “You alright?”

 

“Even though I killed all of them, I don’t want to stay there. Quick pass through, alright?”

 

He nodded. “Fine with me.”

 

“My mother and brother died in there and I was right outside...” she shook her head. “I remember so clearly watching the Frey’s walk outside, slaughter Robb’s men and then kill his direwolf.”

 

He remained quiet as he wasn’t sure what to say, but also because Arya so rarely lets herself be vulnerable and open. She was willing to do that with him at times, but she kept herself well guarded. She adjusted the harness across his chest and then smoothed down his cloak over his shoulders. He captured her wrists and placed a kiss in one of her palms. “The Frey’s are gone. What is it you said? _Winter came for House Frey_? They got what they deserved.”

 

She nodded. “I know. I just wish I could have done something.”

 

“But you couldn’t have. You were young, nowhere near the warrior you are, now. You would have been another lamb for slaughter,” he whispered as he stepped closer. “You couldn’t save them, but you avenged them.”

 

She moved into Gendry’s arms and he held her tight, rested his head against hers. “Just a pass through,” she whispered.

 

*~*

 

They entered the courtyard for the Twins and Gendry noticed the look on Arya’s face. He planned to make it known that they would not stay the night. Just giving their horses a rest. Edmure greeted them as they came down from their horses. “Niece,” he said with a half smile.

 

“Uncle,” she said as he embraced her and Gendry almost smiled to see the uncomfortable look on her face. When he released her, he introduced his wife. “This is my wife, Roslin, and our son, Brandon.” He heaved a sigh. “I figured it was the least I could do since I essentially caused his death.”

 

Gendry watched him for a moment and then Arya turned to him and he walked forward. “Lord Edmure Tully, this is Lord Gendry Baratheon and Ser Sandor Clegane.”

 

Edmure and Roslin both bowed their heads and Edmure looked at her. “We’ve heard a lot of tales come from the North. Targaryens saved the world from the dead, have married, and intend to march south. One of those Targaryens being your bastard brother?”

 

“He’s not a bastard. He never was. My father lied to protect him,” she responded and they were led inside. Gendry wondered if this was the hall where she’d killed all of the Freys? Was it also the same hall in which her family was slaughtered?

 

“The King is a good man. The best I’ve ever met,” Gendry added, walking beside Arya. “He cares about what happens to people. All people. That’s rare in a ruler, these days.”

 

Edmure nodded. “It is. And the Queen?”

“Daenerys,” Arya supplied. “She’s small in stature but the ferociousness of her dragons tends to keep people away from her. She and Jon share a vision of what the future should be. They will be passing through here with their armies. I hope you’ll see fit to give them safe passage.”

 

He nodded. “Of course. And she actually has dragons?”

 

“Two of them, my Lord,” Gendry answered. “They fought off the army of the dead.”

 

Edmure hung his head. “I wish I’d had men to send to aid you. As it is we have less than a hundred to guard the Twins. What’s left of the Tully army after...I betrayed my family...”

 

Arya glowered. “You’re alive. Your family is alive. Your line will continue. Focus on that.”

 

Edmure raised his head and nodded at his niece. “I suppose you’re right. Where is it you’re going?”

 

“Jon and Daenerys made Gendry a legitimate Baratheon. He’s going to claim Storm’s End.”

 

“Why are you going?” he asked.

 

She looked over at Gendy and his blue eyes focused on her grey ones for a moment before she turned back to her uncle. “I go where he goes.”

 

He stopped walking then the expression on his face could only be disapproval. “You’re his consort?”

 

Gendry shook his head. “No. She’s my betrothed,” he lied, quickly, able to see that her uncle was taking issue with them being together and not married. He remembered back to his conversation with Jon and how he’d thought that would be the easy solution if anyone had asked. He tacked on another bit hoping to placate her uncle, “The Hound is her escort.”

 

Arya only glanced up at Gendry before turning back to her uncle. “Travel to Storm’s End is dangerous under the best of circumstances. We thought it best to travel together instead of in waves.” Edmure didn’t seem to accept this news and Arya rolled her eyes. “Uncle, do you think that I would tolerate anyone being improper with me?”

 

He glanced at his own wife who had a slight smile on her face. “No, I don’t believe you would.”

 

“We’re only stopping through. Our horses need a break.”

 

“We can have rooms made for you...”

 

Gendry shook his head. “No. We need to get to Storm’s End as quickly as possible. There’s someone waiting for us to arrive.”

 

“You’re mindful that there could be a trap?”

 

Arya nodded. “I always assume there is. That’s how I’m still alive,” she said as she was shown to the head table to sit beside Edmure with Gendry at her side.

 

*~*

 

Several hours later, they were once more on the road and Sandor was grumbling behind them about giving up a warm keep to sleep when they didn’t have to. As the sun set, and the Twins were well in their past, Arya pulled up her reins and the group stopped. She turned her horse off to the side and started making her way through the woods, the rest of them followed behind her and when she came to a small clearing, they all dismounted. She looked around at the wooded area and then brushed the snow away from what was once a small campfire.

 

“You’ve been here before?” Gendry questioned.

 

She nodded. “On my way back North. I stopped here and saw Nymeria. Asked her to come home with me.”

 

Gendry looked around as the group had started setting up tents. The Hound barking orders at them. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe she’s still around here,” he suggested and he watched her shake her head.

 

“No. Something happened to her. I stopped having wolf dreams. I had them all the time before...”

 

“Before what?”

 

“Before I went home. I still occasionally had them once I got back to Winterfell, but they stopped completely after the battle.” She winced. “I understand Daenerys so well, sometimes.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Wanting the world to burn because of how it hurts people.” Gendry tugged her away from the others. He pulled her into a hug and pressed his lips against the side of her head. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she rested her ear over his heart. “I hate this day,” she said finally. “It’s been nothing but pain since I woke up.”

 

“Luckily, it’s almost over. Start a new one tomorrow.”

 

She looked up at him and he noticed how her eyes darkened and her lips turned up just a bit, mischief playing at her face. “How much do you have left on your scroll?”

 

“Half of the back page,” he replied.

 

Arya heaved a dramatic sigh. “I’m breaking my word, again. I want you.”

 

He furrowed his brow and looked around. “Right now?”

 

She wrinkled her nose and then shook her head. “No. We’ll wait until after dinner and everyone retires for the night.”

 

“You’ll have to be quiet. I’m not going to let the Hound follow through on his threat to kill me if he has to hear you moaning.”

 

She chuckled and pulled out of his arms and they started walking back to the others. “It was good you thought so quickly on your feet when Edmure started asking questions about us traveling together. I didn’t have a ready answer other than to tell him that I can fuck who I want.”

 

He shook his head. “I think that would have been unwise. He didn’t look placated with the answer I gave him, though, yours seemed to have shut down any argument he had.”

 

Arya turned to face him once more and he knew only too well what the look on her face meant. He would try to temper his own reaction as it wouldn’t do to sit around the fire and let all those traveling with them know that he intended on bedding her that evening. But the smoldering look in her eyes was hard for him to ignore. And when she spoke, it was all he could do not to drag her deeper into the woods and fuck her before they even realized they were missing. “If only he knew I was the improper one and seduced you all on my own.”

 

He smiled and nodded. “I do think he would be shocked.”

 

“Shocked? If he was anything like my mother he would have thrown you into the dungeon, Lord or no, for daring to defile me.”

 

He let out a loud laugh that caused a few of the others to look over at him, but he paid them no mind. “Defile you?” he finally said. “You snuck into my room while I was taking a bath.”

 

She nodded. “I know. Seduced you, remember?”

 

He placed a kiss on her nose. “I remember everything.”

 

*~*

 

Arya had already gone into their tent, but Gendry had gotten caught up speaking with one of the men who had helped him in the forge with making the spears. He hadn’t realized it was him until a day after they had set off from Winterfell. Harold, or Harry as he asked people to call him, wasn’t much younger than him and had just begun working in the forge. Gendry hadn’t realized he’d made such an impact on him that when they asked for volunteers to go with them to Storm’s End, Harry had immediately volunteered.

 

“Would I still be allowed to blacksmith once we get to Storm’s End?” he asked.

 

Gendry knit his brows and rubbed his hands together as he held them to the fire. “Why wouldn’t you?”

 

“I’m technically part of your guard.”

 

He shrugged. “Yes, but I would never hold you to that. If you want to be a smith, I wouldn’t stop you. In fact, that may be one of the first places I inspect when we arrive. After we get everything else situated. Maybe Storm’s End can become known for producing the best quality weapons the kingdom can find.”

 

“Thank you, my lord,” Harry said as he turned his attention back to the fire.

 

Gendry then bid everyone good night and made his way to the tent and found Arya sitting up, staring into space with one of the heavy furs wrapped around her. She didn’t even look at him as he began removing his boots and heavy cloak as he sat beside her on their makeshift bed. He removed his jerkin and pulled his tunic over his head and that’s when he felt her eyes on him followed by her hands as she moved around behind him and pressed her chin to his shoulder. “What took you so long?”

 

He smiled at her. “Sorry. Got lost in conversation,” he said as he took her hand and pulled her around in front of him. She kept the fur pulled in front of her as she moved into his lap. He could barely make out a smile on her lips as the candle in their tent burned low. “What’s the matter?”

 

She rested her forehead against his and dropped the fur around her waist. She was naked beneath it and when the cold air hit her, she shivered. She leaned over and blew out the candle and smoothed her hands over his shoulders and hugged him to her. “My life was revenge for so long that I sometimes forget what I’ve actually lost. Why I was seeking it in the first place. I didn’t really think about my mother and brother the last time I was there. It was all about getting to Walder and killing him and his line.” Her mouth turned down, her dark eyes looking at his chest and not his face. “But today, in that hall, I can remember how it smelled outside when the men came rushing out. That I could faintly hear my mother scream,” she said softly and it was then that he realized he could hear tears in her voice.

 

“I’m so sorry, Arya,” he whispered. “But you avenged them. People say that Jon did. But even after the Battle of the Bastards and the Boltons were dead, the biggest liars were the Freys. They invited them into their home and butchered them. But you saw to it that they were erased from this world. You did that. Your brother and mother have been avenged.”

 

She was near to pouting and he brushed his thumb against her bottom lip. “And what of my father? Joffrey, Cersei, and Illyn Payne were all on my list because of what they did to my father. Joffrey is gone, but Cersei still lives. I can still kill her. I can still avenge him...”

 

He sighed. “Perhaps that’s not a life you’re meant to take. Jaime Lannister helped put her where she is. Let him help to take her down,” he said softly.

 

Arya heaved a sigh. “I want her dead, Gendry. I want her to suffer.”

 

“Then live well. She would have had you killed. She would now. Live in spite of her. Besides...I need you,” he said softly. “You know I do.”

 

He heard her sigh. “You do need me. You’d be lost without me.”

 

He chuckled. “Hopelessly. You’re teaching me to read,” he said as he leaned forward and gently nipped at her shoulder. “I would give you what you wish if I could, but we have another purpose.”

 

She nodded and moved her fingers through his hair. “I know. I do. Doesn’t meant that I don’t want to slit her throat.”

 

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll get the chance to slit someone’s throat. But not hers. At least not until we know if Jaime Lannister fails.” Gendry sighed. “I promise, if he does, I’ll ride with you to King’s Landing myself and you’ll scratch her name off your list.”

 

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “You understand me better than anyone, I think.”

 

“Well, I am madly in love with you,” he whispered. “I think that helps.”

 

Arya placed a kiss on his shoulder and moved from his lap to lay back on their bed. She tugged on his arm to pull him on top of her. “Show me you love me.”

 

*~*

 

“Why did you really agree to escort us?” Gendry asked the Hound as they allowed their horses to drink from a stream as they had stopped to rest. Arya had gone into the woods to take care of Mother Nature and Gendry took that opportunity to question the usually coarse man.

 

“I’m not escorting you. I’m going to be the one that kills my brother. I’m simply going to see if I get an opportunity before they get here.”

 

Gendry eyed him for a moment and then spoke, “You realize that she doesn’t believe that and neither do I?”

 

“I don’t give a fuck what you or the little wolf believe.”

 

He sighed and looked out over the water. “What are you going to do once you do kill him?”

 

“Fuck my way through King's Landing.”

 

Gendry chuckled. “Well, that is one way to live out the rest of your days.”

 

“Why are you talking to me so much?”

 

His blue eyes widened a bit. “You’re one of the best fighters that’s alive. We’re going to a place where we don’t know anyone to do something neither of us is actually prepared to do. Arya tolerates you better than she does most. If, when you finish in King's Landing, and you want somewhere else to be, you’re welcome in Storms End.”

 

Clegane stared at him for a long time, so long that Gendry had a hard time not squirming under his gaze. “She’s tried to kill me several times.”

 

“Could have, by all accounts. But she didn’t. That means...she likes you enough to not want you dead.”

 

Gendry was a great deal smaller than the Hound and he was more aware of it now than he had been several minutes before as his large presence loomed over him. However, Arya’s voice cut through the tension. “Let’s go. If we ride hard we could get to an inn and not have to sleep on the ground.”

 

“It’s been a week since we left the Twins which was the last fucking time we could have stayed somewhere that didn’t put rocks in my back. You don’t have to tell me twice,” Clegane bellowed. “Alright, you dumb cunts! On your horses and ride hard to the inn! The last one to get there pays for all of us to stay!”

 

Arya and Gendry were onto their saddles and riding behind Sandor, the rest of the men following behind them.

 

*~*

 

As they climbed from their horses and the men walked them to the stable, Arya stopped him before they went in. “Do you know where we are?”

 

He looked up at the inn, the stone building looking like hundreds of others they’d passed on their travels North. “Uh? South?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Yes. We’re further south than we were. What I mean is do you remember this place?”

 

He looked up at the building and went through the times they spent together and the smell of bread wafted into his nose. He looked down at her with a smile. “Hot Pie,” he said softly.

 

She smiled and nodded. “Hot Pie.”

 

Gendry followed her inside the inn and found several of the men already seated at a table with ales in front of them. He scanned the room, looking for him as they took a seat with the others. “Arry!”

 

Gendry turned to see Hot Pie making his way towards them and she smiled. “Hello, Hot Pie.”

 

Gendry stood and he saw recognition on his face. “Gendry?” He said with a smile and embraced him. “You found 'em.”

 

Arya nodded. “Wasn’t aware I was supposed to be looking for him, but yes. I found him.”

 

“I heard you was made a Lord!” He said happily, and Sandor reached onto the tray and grabbed the bowls of stew on them and handed them out to the others, mumbling about shitty service. “And your brother is married to the Dragon Queen only he ain’t really your brother but a secret Targaryen!”

 

Gendry nodded and sat beside Arya again. “All of that is true,” he said as he gestured to the seat in front of him and Hot Pie sat.

 

“And you fought the dead?”

 

Arya nodded. “And the dead lost.”

 

Hot Pie smiled. “Well, that’s good. Where are you headin’?”

 

“Storm's end,” Gendry answered. “Do you have rooms?”

 

“Ten,” he answered.

 

Sandor grumbled. “Harry here is paying.”

 

Gendry shook his head. “I’m paying,” he responded and put a small pouch on the table. “Need all ten.”

 

Hot Pie nodded. “Let me go get you some food. I just made some kidney pies.”

 

They both watched him go and Gendry leaned over to Arya and smiled. “I have a crazy idea.”

 

She wrapped her hand around his arm and sighed. “I think I know your idea. But we don’t know what we’re riding into. We hope that it’s good. What if we have to fight?”

 

“I don’t want to leave him here, Arya, if we’re able to take him with us. Friendly faces where we’re going might be few in number.”

 

“He’s safe here.”

 

“You know as well as I do that nowhere is safe.” Gendry glowered. “We can’t hope that he’ll continue to be safe here.”

 

They watched as he approached and she looked at Clegane. “I know you’re listening. What do you think?”

 

“You have friends,” he said into his ale. “You two can’t afford friends.”

 

Gendry gave him a dirty look. “Is he safe here?”

 

“Fuck no. Nowhere is safe. But that boy isn’t a fighter. Do you think you can keep him alive?”

 

“No way to promise that anywhere.”

 

Clegane shrugged. “He makes good food.”

 

“Let’s leave it up to him. He might be happy here,” Gendry said with a sigh.

 

Hot Pie returned and put bread on the table as well as pies, stew and more ales. Hot Pie sat down again and Gendry tilted his head at the other man. “How are things here for you?”

 

“Good. Learning new things every day in the kitchens. I think one of the maids is in love with me. No surprise there, right?” Gendry smiled into his ale and Arya shoved food into her mouth to keep from answering. “How 'bout you two?”

 

“Betrothed,” Gendry lied, though it was starting to feel like less of one the more he said it.

 

“To each other?”

 

Arya chuckled. “Yes. To each other.”

 

Gendry looked over at her as she looked at him, realizing she had just said it as easily as he had. He would never presume, but it was more than they’d had the day before. “So,” he started, “you’re happy here?”

 

Hot Pie shrugged. “I get to do what I love every day. You still make swords?”

 

“Not as much as I used to.”

 

“Miss it?”

 

He smiled. “It’s less complicated. Listen, Hot Pie, we’re leaving in the morning. Would you like to come with us to Storm’s End?”

 

He looked unsure. “Leave here?”

 

He nodded. “Yeah.”

 

“What would I do? Would I get to bake?”

 

Arya nodded. “If you want.”

 

He leaned back a bit and sighed. “I can think about it, yeah?”

 

“Course.”

 

Hot Pie stood and left them as he served food to some of the other patrons. “You realize your problem, don’t you?” Sandor asked.

 

“What?”

 

“You just announced that you’re betrothed in a room full of people which means you two can’t share a room.”

 

Arya furrowed her brow. “Why?”

 

Gendry sighed. “Because you don’t want anyone to get the impression that I ruined you before we ever get to Storm’s End...fuck.”

 

“Not tonight you won’t,” Sandor said with a mean chuckle.

 

*~*

 

Arya entered Gendry's room as he sat up in the bed with his scroll sitting on his lap. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he sung teasingly.

 

“When do I do what I’m _supposed_ to do?”

 

He smiled as she sat on the bed beside him and placed a kiss on his lips. “Never.”

 

She shrugged. “I would hate to ruin tradition.” She took the scroll from him and put it on the table beside him and her face flushed. “To the world, now, I suppose we’re betrothed.”

 

“As you’re so fond of saying _let people think what they want to think_.”

 

She sighed. “Is that the inevitable?”

 

He closed his eyes and sat up straighter. “We’re not going to argue about the future again, are we?”

 

She shook her head. “No. I’ve been thinking about it though. I assume we’ll eventually get married...should we just really be promised to one another and just cut out the lie?”

 

He tilted his head. “Is that what you want?”

 

She was silent for a moment, but when she spoke, her voice was lower. He'd come to recognize it as the tone she used when she was afraid. He heard it very little, “What do you want?”

 

“You.”

 

She took his hand. “I mean...do you want to be...”

 

“Arya? Would it make you feel better if I officially asked you?”

 

She slowly shook her head. “Feel better? No. It all makes me nervous.”

 

He took her hand and placed a kiss on her palm. “Arya, I love you. Please,” he mocked, “marry me?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “You sound so desperate.”

 

He chuckled. “I am. Desperate for you,” he teased.

 

“Alright, fine. I don’t want to be betrothed yet.”

 

He placed a kiss on her palm again. “When I really ask, you’ll say yes, right?”

 

She laughed. “When you really ask.”

 

He leaned forward and kissed her. “Good. Now go back to your room as I have some reading to do.” She stood and moved away from the bed but his voice stopped her. “Wait. What is this word? I keep coming back to it.”

 

She turned and looked at the parchment and then smiled. “Thighs.”

 

“Thighs,” he whispered. “Wrap my thighs...around your head...” he looked up at her, feeling his body react to her naughty words. “Go to bed, Arya.”

 

She smiled as she walked to the door. “Good night, Gendry.”

 

*~*

 

“So, is the fat boy coming with you?” Sandor asked.

 

“His name is Hot Pie and he hasn’t said,” Gendry responded as he tied his saddlebag to the horse. “How far are we from King’s Landing?”

 

“Two weeks,” he responded. “We’ll need to keep on our toes when we get close to Harrenhal. I think the Lannisters still hold it. Even though the two brothers are North, their crazy bitch sister still sits on the throne and controls her armies.”

 

Gendry nodded. “We won’t fly banners, then,” he quipped. Arya and Hot Pie exited the Inn and she smiled at him. “Well, have you decided?”

 

He nodded. “I’m comin'. But I made you something,” he said as he held out a loaf wrapped in a linen.

 

It was a stag and Gendry smiled. “You’ve gotten better.”

 

He then handed one to Arya who took it from him a bright smile on her face. Gendry could see the wolf and that it was much better than the first one he had given to her. “Isn’t this fucking lovely,” the Hound’s voice cut through their conversation. Gendry looked up to find him on his horse, holding the reins loosely. “Get on your fucking horses so we can leave this shithole.”

 

Hot pie stared at him in fear and she sighed. “You’ll get used to him.”

 

Gendry chuckled. “No, you won’t.”

 

Gendry and Arya waited for Hot Pie’s horse to be saddled and he kept his several bags on his shoulder as he struggled to sit on the horse. They both climbed up with ease. Gendry pulled up beside Hot Pie. “Listen, if something bad happens, you’re to get on this horse and race back here a fast as you can.”

 

“Oh, giving me orders now as a Lord, already?”

 

He could hear Arya’s snicker from behind them, but Gendry's glance back at her silenced the sound. “Yes. But more like your friend. You’ve survived this long. I would hate to think you’d die with us.”

 

“Almost did a few times before. We lived through that, didn’t we?”

 

Arya pulled up to Gendry’s other side and took his hand. “Somehow.”

 

They caught up with Sandor and started down the road. It would be another two weeks before they reached the path where they would have to break away from the Hound. Gendry hoped that he would consider coming to Storm’s End when the war was over. He knew how much the Hound hated King’s Landing as he complained about it enough. He also knew that the older man had an affection for Arya, and whether she would ever admit it or not, she had one for him.

 

He rode alongside Hot Pie who kept up a steady stream of conversation about pies and interesting people that had come through the inn. Gendry wasn’t needed to say much, but the prattling from Hot Pie had caused Arya and The Hound to drop back behind them. Gendry didn’t care. Listening to him talk about food was familiar even if somewhat annoying. He could live with it. The more friends they had when they reached Storm’s End, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	66. Daenerys XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparing for the march south the following day, the revelation of pregnancy to Tyrion, family dinner, and then alone time between the King and Queen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you all for your never-ending support for this fic. I've been contemplating dividing it into a three-part series and ending the first part after the war for the dawn, the second part with the next chapter, and then the end of the fic would encompass the war for the Seven Kingdoms. Thoughts? It would be part of a series instead of a 60+ chapter monster!
> 
> Thank you to FrostbitePanda, Sparkles, jaqtdk, meisie, and NoOrdinaryLines for their never-ending help and support! When I started writing for GoT I had no one to talk to and over the last month, I have made some truly wonderful friends. 
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**DAENERYS**

 

Daenerys stood across from Jon at the map they’d had set up in his father’s study. Jon still didn’t consider it his and she had to wonder who he thought it belonged to if not the King. He was currently discussing troop movements with Jaime, Lord Glover, Lord Manderly, Yara, Theon, Tales, and the Dothraki rider known as Bofko, with Missandei translating what the Dothraki didn’t understand. Varys and Tyrion remained on the side with her as they all watched the pieces being moved into place.

 

“It’s a good plan,” Jaime said as he looked it over. “And we have to hope that the Hound and I can get into the Keep and give you the signal before they have to move into the city.”

 

Lord Glover spoke then. “Seems like a lot to depend on from a  _ Lannister _ . And what if you’re deceiving us? What if this is all a ploy to report back to your sister what our plans are?”

 

Daenerys was going to interject, however, Jon did first. “Lord Glover, Jaime has been here for months, now. His sister has tried to kill him as well as my entire family. He fought beside us in the war for the Dawn and nearly lost his arm doing so. I’m willing to extend him a bit of faith,” he said lowly. She knew what it cost Jon to say those words, but she couldn’t help the small smile that played on her lips. 

 

“Yara, you’ll move your ships into place and be ready when you see Drogon fly over the city. Thanks to Bran,” Jon said as he nodded at his brother who was seated beside Tyrion, “we know there are now twenty-five Scorpions throughout the city. Some of the Unsullied who can swim, will leave the ships at night and swim to the beach here,” Jon said, pointing to the one Davos had pointed out that he used for smuggling. They will then systematically go through the city and dismantle the Scorpions. Once finished with the one nearest the Dragon Pit, they’ll fly the Targaryen Banner and then Daenerys and I will fly over the city with the dragons.”

 

Jon heaved a sigh. “Jaime and the Hound will come in through another way...some sort of hidden cove to the south of the keep?”

 

He nodded. “I used to train there with Bronn. It’s remote.”

 

“They will come up this way and sneak into the keep from there. Once we’ve seen the banner waving from the Red Keep, we’ll send in the troops.”

 

“And the elephants?” Lord Manderly questioned. 

 

Jon smirked and looked at Daenerys. “Have the dragons ever eaten elephants?”

 

She smiled and shook her head. “No.”

 

“Then it will be a treat for them. However many they can stomach,” he smiled as well before he turned back to Lord Glover and Manderly. “We’ll need the siege weapons in place ready to take them out. With every animal, aim for the heads, specifically the eyes and let’s try not to get too close. On the road South, we will stop at towns, the queen and I, and greet people, listen to their concerns and complaints, help what areas we can and then leave the following day. The Unsullied will be on guard duty around our camp.”

 

Daenerys then called attention. “Bran has informed us that there is a large contingent of men stationed at Harrenhal, Lannister forces. We will approach about an armistice and ask them to follow Jaime instead of Cersei.”

 

Jon looked at Tyrion and then Jaime, “And would they follow you?”

 

Jaime frowned. “Hard to say. Some of those men lost loved ones fighting in wars recently. Faced with the terror of having to fight a dragon they might see that bending the knee to you would be easier and less bloody.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “We’ll give them a choice. Bend the knee or die.”

 

Jaime furrowed his brow. “Not much of a choice.”

 

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. But we can’t risk them flanking us once we leave Harrenhal. And within our camp, they would be watched. They would be cared for and fed. But I think we might be able to persuade them to bend the knee if we show them that House Lannister is fully supporting us. When we ride to negotiate with those troops, we’ll take Jaime to meet with them. Let him change their minds.”

 

Jon glanced at Jaime. “They have to like you more than your sister, right?”

 

“It’s not a matter of me or Cersei. It will depend on the two rulers coming to make them submit. Can you be better than your father? Can you be more than a Northman? Those things will matter.”

 

Jon nodded. “I think that’s all for now, gentlemen. Lord Glover, we will meet your troops on the Kings Road, and Lord Manderly, we would ask that some of your men travel on Yara’s ships to make them appear more filled out. Only after you see the dragons would you raise the Manderly banner.” The older man nodded. “Remember, we’re all allies in this war. We need to remind our troops of that, as well. We leave tomorrow. We’ll speak more once we’re on the road.

 

“Your grace, I would ask to speak with you alone,” Yara said softly and everyone filed out of the room, Jon even started to leave but she shook her head at him and he shut the door. “Your grace?”   
  


“Not only are Jon and I married, but he is the King and I am the Queen. Whatever discussions are had will be had with both of us from this point on.”

 

Yara pursed her lips together and nodded. “Very well. I’m here to ask about my brother, Theon.”

 

Daenerys sat in the chair beside the table as Jon took a seat as well. It was officially their first time to counsel someone as king and queen together. She only hoped Jon was able to keep his temper about Theon as she knew where this was going. “I have discussed your request with the King and as I told you it would be his decision.”

 

Yara looked at Jon expectantly and he sighed. “Robb, Theon, and I grew up together. We played together, we fought together, we learned together. I left for the wall, to do what I felt was my duty and I did it with certainty that Theon would always remain loyal to Robb, who treated him like a brother. And then...he betrayed not only my brother but my entire family. I know some of what he endured under Ramsay. Sansa told us enough. Theon told me you came to get him, fought for him. And he did help Sansa escape that monster.” Jon’s eyes locked with hers. “I told him that what he did for here was the only reason I didn’t kill him. He’s proven himself to be a man who is seeking redemption. But I can’t grant him a pardon to live in the North. When he took Winterfell, he opened the North to the horrors of the Boltons. Maybe that always existed. Maybe it didn’t.” He took a deep breath and kept his eyes on her. “I can’t give you what you ask.”

 

Her eyes grew cold. “Do you even know what he saved me from? The type of torture I endured at Euron’s hand? And Theon managed to take down his fleet and save my life. He doesn’t want to live on the Iron Islands. He feels the North is his home.”

 

Jon answered before Daenerys could, “He should have thought of that before he betrayed Robb.”

 

Yara shook her head and turned her eyes to Daenerys. “What do you think?”

 

Daenerys glanced at Jon and then sighed. “I already told you it was his decision.”

 

“Not what I asked.”

 

She sighed. “I don’t...agree that someone’s past should necessarily dictate their future, but I also see that your brother would be in grave danger if he lived in the North. I rode in with two armies and two dragons and there are still those who don’t want to help us because of the past. I don’t agree with that sort of mentality, but surely you can see that what your asking is difficult.”

 

Yara was getting ready to protest again and Daenerys held her hand up. “There’s still a war yet to fight. Perhaps Theon could find a way to prove his worth.” She looked at the two of them and settled on Yara. “I know that’s not the answer you wanted, but I’m sure even your brother can attest that the  _ North Remembers _ . Overcoming that is a difficult task.”

 

Yara took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing just a bit as she turned her attention to Jon. “I know full well what happened with Theon. It’s a regret that he lives with every day. It haunts him, just like every horrible thing that Ramsay did to him. But he still helped Sansa escape. He rescued me. Perhaps the North should remember that many of their houses don’t have the pristine reputations that they try to establish on others. Didn’t most of them refuse to help you retake Winterfell?”

 

Jon nodded. “Most, yes.”

 

“But they’re forgiven, correct? Because you needed them?”

 

He shook his head and stood. “They weren’t willing to fight against Ramsay in case we lost and then they would have earned his wrath. I can’t blame them for that and I won’t hold it against them.”

 

“You need me, too. You need my help to command the fleet that  _ my brother  _ took for you and destroyed an enemy. Perhaps you’d like me to show you the same sort of  _ understanding _ that you’ve given to Theon.”

 

Daenerys stood between the two. “First, you will not level threats at either of us, no matter what’s happened. Second, I said maybe Theon could prove himself and change people’s minds. In the end, we will do what is best for the realm, not simply one person.”

 

Yara rolled her eyes. “Everyone in this room has made mistakes they regret, done things that they wish they could take back. Theon’s...actions were...he caused a lot of problems. But he’s been trying to atone for those, and if the North is so small-minded they can’t recognize that and allow him to live in peace in their part of the country then why are we fighting for them?”

 

Jon heaved a sigh. “Everyone is worth fighting for.”

 

“That  _ everyone _ extends to my brother as far as I’m concerned.”

 

Daenerys eyed Jon, seeing that he knew why he wouldn’t pardon Theon, but when faced with his sister, he had trouble vocalizing that. Especially to a woman that Theon had saved. She decided to save her husband the trouble and end this conversation while they were still at peace. “Yara, we will consider this once we have the throne. When that happens, the discussion will be open once again. Until that time, we’ll continue to operate as allies. And our deal still stands about the Iron Islands, no matter the decision about your brother.”

 

Yara didn’t look happy about the answer, however, she bowed her head and turned to leave the room. She looked over at Jon who seemed both annoyed and angry. “She doesn’t understand.”

 

Daenerys frowned and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a hard concept to grasp. She loves her brother and he saved her life. It’s hard to wrap your mind around other people not seeing the person you see.”

 

He took his seat once more and she sat on his lap, his hand coming to rest on her hip as his other stroked her growing belly. “I think before we leave Winterfell, we need to tell Tyrion.”

 

She covered his hand with hers. “What about Davos?”

 

He smirked. “He knows.” Her eyes widened but he was quick to quiet her protest. “I didn’t tell him. He overhead Sansa and Arya...and he happened to notice a few signs he saw in his own wife when she was pregnant. But I think it would be best if we told them together.” She moved out of his arms and over to the door to tell one of the guards to fetch Tyrion and Davos. She returned to Jon and instead of sitting on his lap, she took the chair beside him and laced her fingers with his as she rested her head against his shoulder. Jon placed a kiss on the top of her head. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Tired and achy,” she said as she ran a hand along her side, feeling the ache in her muscles. 

 

He chuckled against her hair. “Anything you want me to rub for you?”

 

She laughed. “You’re terrible.”

 

They were interrupted by a voice clearing and Daenerys looked up to see Tyrion and Davos standing inside the room. Davos closed the door behind him. “You asked to speak with us?”

 

Daenerys nodded and beckoned them to take the chairs in front of them. “Yes, have a seat.” When they did she pulled her hand from Jon’s and laced her hands on her lap. “Jon and I have had many discussions about the future, specifically the future of the realm and how we intend on keeping our dream of a new world going once we’ve both passed. Tyrion, you and I have argued about it at length.”

 

Tyrion sighed. “Only because I believe in the world you want to build. I’d like to ensure that it goes further than you and the king.”

 

She looked over at Jon and he gave her the half smile that sent her head swirling. Daenerys internally shook herself to remember that they weren’t alone and openly throwing herself into his lap and ravishing him wasn’t an option at the moment. She turned her attention back to Tyrion and smiled. “We’ve solved the problem, though.”

 

“You have a plan. Wonderful. What is it?”

 

“We’re going to have a baby,” she said plainly, waiting to see what his reaction would be.

 

He blinked a few times, glancing at her belly and tilted his head to meet her eyes again. “Are you serious?”

 

“Very,” Jon replied.

 

Tyrion suddenly let out a laugh and he smiled brightly. “I thought...you thought you couldn’t have children.”

 

“That was the assumption. The witch’s curse had proven to be true for a long while.”

 

Tyrion looked at Jon and smiled. “First, you’re a secret Targaryen and heir to the throne, then you defeat the Night King, and now you’ve managed to get the Dragon Queen pregnant after she was told it would never happen? What else are you going to do, Jon Snow?” Jon shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with the current discussion and Daenerys reached over and took his hand again. “It’s quite a relief. Every time I tried to discuss the line of succession I was a bit afraid you were going to have Drogon eat me.”

 

She smiled at him. “I thought about it on numerous occasions.”

Silence reigned in the room as Tyrion smiled at her. She saw true relief on his face and she was reminded of why she picked him as her hand. He not only had the best interest of the realm at heart but also her. She knew he respected Jon. She knew he respected her. She then looked at Davos and knew that Jon would not consider ruling without the older man at his side. In the short time she’d known him, he had shown himself to be truly supportive of them both and his counsel was often wise and, at times, calmer and even than Tyrion’s. But then she thought that might have had to do with where and how he was raised. He brought a different perspective.

 

“When we take the Iron Throne, we’ll look to the two of you as our guides.”

 

Jon squeezed her hand and nodded. “Daenerys has talked about breaking the wheel and there are no two better men that I know who can guide us in doing that. Neither of us wants to do this without you by our sides. With that in mind, Davos of House Seaworth and Tyrion of House Lannister, we name you hands of the King and Queen.”

 

Davos smiled. “I can’t think of any two people who will better serve their people than the two of you.”

 

“We’ll have a pendant made for you, Ser Davos.”

 

He nodded. “Thank you, your grace. Well,” he said as he looked at Tyrion, “I suppose it’s up to you and me to make sure this gets pulled off without a hitch, then.”

 

Tyrion nodded. “I’m at your service,” he said as he bowed his head. “Come, Davos, let’s celebrate with a drink.”

  
Davos stood and followed Tyrion out of the room. “As long as it’s not that goat shit Tormund drinks.”

 

*~*

 

Dinner with Bran, Daenerys, and Sansa that evening was a quiet affair. Bran was a bit more talkative, telling the story of how Aegon the Conqueror and the destruction of Harrenhal. Sansa only pushed her food around, not really eating it or joining in with the conversation. Daenerys thought that she could feel Sansa’s heartbreak. 

 

She finally put a hand on the girl’s arm and she looked up at her a frown on her face and her eyes watery. “Are you alright?”

 

Sansa nodded. “I will be. It’s hard, though. I finally had all of my family home. Arya’s already gone. You and Jon leave tomorrow. I have Bran,” she said with a smile at her brother, “but I’m worried for all of you. I only hope you will succeed and travel back here soon.”

 

Daenerys gave her a small smile. “I want to thank you, my lady. You could have made things very difficult when I arrived, however, you were warm and inviting. It helped put me at ease and made this feel like a home. I’ll never forget that kindness, Sansa.”

 

She smiled and rested her hands on her lap. “I was rather angry that Jon had bent the knee and didn’t consult me. However, once I met you and saw what you were willing to do for your people and him, I knew I couldn’t hate you.”

 

She chuckled. “I’m glad. I never met my brother, Rhaegar, and my brother Viserys was petty and cruel. When I got Jon, I got siblings that I wanted to be around. Arya, Bran, and you. Our paths to where we are now are similar in very bad ways. But, I believe you and I have both learned from those paths.” Sansa looked down at her hands and frowned and Daenerys leaned in to speak with Sansa as Jon was talking to Bran. “Are you going to be alright? I know it’s not just our departure that has you so upset.”

 

She glanced at her brothers and sighed. “It’s not. I was reminded that the North would never accept a Lannister seated in Winterfell,” she whispered. “And...I told Jaime that once he goes South we had to accept that this was over.”

 

Daenerys put her hand over hers and frowned. “I can’t imagine he took that well.”

 

She swallowed thickly and then her eyes met Daenerys and she could almost feel her loss. “He hated it. But...I have to think about more than myself. And...the North needs a Stark in Winterfell.”

 

She tilted her head at Sansa and frowned. “If that’s how you feel...then take every moment you can while you can,” she said softly. “I know your brothers don’t approve, I think you could do better as well, however, I would never discourage you from seeking out what happiness there is.”

 

Sansa heaved a sigh. “What do you mean?”

 

Daenerys smiled. “Why are you still sitting with us when you could be with him saying a proper goodbye?”

 

Sansa’s blue eyes widened and glanced at Bran and Jon. “What about them?”

 

She smiled. “I’ll handle them. Make your excuses...but I would caution you to...be careful.”

 

Sansa nodded and stood. Jon and Bran both turned their attention to her. “I’m not feeling well. I’ll see you in the morning before you leave,” she said as she bowed her head and then left the room. 

 

Bran looked pointedly at her. “Do you think that was wise?” he asked once Sansa was out of the room.

 

Daenerys lifted her goblet, an innocent look on her face. “If she’s feeling ill, Bran, who are we to question her?”

 

He didn’t seem happy with that response, however, he dropped it and didn’t say anything more to arouse suspicion in Jon. In fact, it was probably best Jon didn’t know what Sansa’s plan was as he would definitely try to kill Jaime.

 

“Jon, I’m tired. Escort me to our room?”   
  


Jon nodded and several of the guards came to help Bran to his. “I’ll see you before I leave,” he whispered to Bran. 

 

As they walked through the castles, several guards lifting Bran’s chair to take him up to the family’s chambers. Jon and Dany stopped outside their door and waited for Bran to be situated in his room. Daenerys’s handmaiden, Dari, entered the room and began to help Daenerys take down her hair while Jon removed his sword and boots then sat on the edge of the bed and began cleaning Longclaw with a cloth.

 

“Dari, while we’re traveling south would you begin to let out some of my clothes. I’m afraid they’re getting a bit tight.”

 

“Of course, Khaleesi,” she said as she combed through Daenerys’s hair. She stood and Dari began helping Daenerys peel away the different layers of her clothes, placing each item down carefully for her to take with her when she left the room. She took that time to look around the room. A lot of their things had already been packed and were placed near the door. But there were items that remained where they were until the morning. The heavy black fur that covered their bed would be coming with them as it was soft, warm, and reminded her of her dark and broody husband. The armoire would be completely emptied, everything packed into the trunk at the end of the bed. 

 

Dari helped her into her robe once her clothes had been removed and she nodded for her to leave her alone with Jon. As she opened the door, Ghost strode in and settled in front of the fire. She sat in front of him and rubbed her hands over his fur as he nuzzled her. “We’re taking Ghost with us, right?”

 

She heard Jon resheath his sword and move to the chair behind her perch on the floor. His fingers moved through her hair and drifted down to her shoulders where he gently kneaded the flesh. She leaned her head against his hand and felt him place a kiss on her head. “Of course. You have your dragons. I have my wolf.”

 

Daenerys looked up at him with a smile. “ _ We _ have dragons.”

 

He shook his head and chuckled. “No, my dear. They are still very much your dragons. Rhaegal may allow me to be his rider, but you noticed the other night when we were arguing, he was still rather torn as to whose side he was on.”

 

She smiled. “That’s because dragons are smart and he knew I was right.”

 

“Yes, that  _ must _ be it.”

 

She leaned her head against his knee as she continued petting Ghost. “I’m sad about leaving, Jon. It feels as if I’ve been all over the world and for the first time since I was a small child I’ve felt at home.” She looped one arm around his leg and gently caressed his shin. She took a deep breath, trying to keep in control of her emotions. 

 

“We’ll come back, Dany. We will. We’ll have to show our child where we married. Where we fought the dead and won. Bring him or her to meet Auntie Sansa and Uncle Bran. Have Bran tell us all the things the child has done that are naughty and we aren’t supposed to know so we can convince them that we know everything and they have to be on their best behavior,” he said with a grin against her hair. 

 

She laughed and looked up at him. “That’s rather sneaky for you.”

 

“I grew up with four boys and Arya. You have to be a  _ bit sneaky _ to survive.”

 

She moved to her knees in front of him and cupped his face in her hands. “You’re my home.” He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and she nuzzled into his neck. She took that moment to close her eyes and absorb him. Jon always smelled like the woods, snow, and something deeper, more basic, something that was just him. It was the scent which brought her peace. The scent that made her feel whole. “Take me to bed.”

 

He helped her stand and she took a step back to let him stand as well. “I was serious earlier,” he said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and her hand came up to capture his. His lips pressed against the shell of her ear and she shivered at the feel of his breath blowing over the sensitive skin.

 

“About?” she asked as he spun her away from him and settled her on the bed.

 

He leaned forward, bracing both hands on either side of her, a predatory smile on his handsome face. “Is there anything you’d like me to rub?”

 

She shook her head and gave a throaty laugh. “Not while you’re wearing so many clothes.”

 

He stood and removed his heavy jerkin followed by his tunic. She leaned back on her elbows and watched as he began undoing the laces of his leathers, her eyes fixated on his hands. Her eyes drifted up his body and met his as he shoved his trousers down and kicked them off. She bit her bottom lip as he slid his hands beneath her robe and ran up along her thighs, parting the fabric as he went. He placed kisses on her knee, then dragged his lips along the soft skin, the scruff of his beard causing her to shiver and her fingers moved through his dark curls.

 

Daenerys tossed her head back as she felt his tongue trace the juncture of thigh and hip before he undid the knot and exposed her body to him. He suddenly smiled and her eyes caught his. “You mentioned your clothes being too tight...” he said as he moved his hands and eyes over a now discernable bump. His eyes looked at her in wonder. “Do you think this is why you’ve been aching?”

 

She nodded. “The baby is growing. So am I.”

 

He placed kisses along the swell, his hands smoothing over her skin and she released a sigh of contentment. “I’m your Pa,” he said against her flesh, pressing his lips against it again. Daenerys swallowed thickly, trying to keep the tears a bay, but as he sat back a bit and she felt his hand swirl nonsense patterns over her belly, she couldn’t stop the small hiccough that escaped. He looked up at her, his dark eyes full of concern. “Do you want me to stop?”

 

She gave a watery laugh. “Stop being the wonderful man you are? Never.” 

 

“You  _ are _ crying.” 

 

Daenerys leaned into him, inhaling his scent. “I never thought I would find a man who would be my equal, my partner. Not only do I have that, but...you’re wonderful, strong, stubborn,” she said with a slight giggle, “and so very charming.”

 

He made a face, his eyes narrowing a bit. “I’m a lot of things, but charming isn’t one of them.”

 

She grinned, brushed her thumb along his bottom lip, which he took the opportunity to nip with his teeth. “Your charm, Jon, is that you don’t realize how wonderful you are,” she pressed her lips to his. “And now, as your wife, I demand you do your husbandly duties and love me.”

 

Jon heaved a dramatic sigh. “If I must.”

 

Daenerys nipped at the pulse in his throat. “I insist.”


	67. Sansa XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa makes some good memories and says farewell to her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the wonderful Discernable Tarts known as meisie, Sparkles59, FrostbitePanda, Jaqdtk, and NoOrdinaryLines. You guys have become an amazing support system. Thank you!
> 
> Alright, so I know this is sort of angsty, but it's my mood. I hope you guys enjoy it. I know that for some of you, Jaime/Sansa chapters are your least favorite, but I like them. 
> 
> This chapter is brought you by the following songs:  
> Witness - Sarah McLachlan  
> Paper Cup - Heather Nova  
> Nobody - Keith Sweat  
> Colorblind - The Counting Crows

**SANSA**

 

Sansa didn't go directly to Jaime's room, as she initially planned when she left her family in the hall. Instead, she took the time to go back to her room, change out of her heavy dress, had her hair taken down, wanting to go to him with no pretense on who she was and what she was seeking. To let him go without saying good, a proper goodbye, had caused her a pain she didn't like to identify. In fact, all of her feelings concerning Jaime were wrapped up in this ball of confusion, lust, and something she'd never felt before. It was strong and spread throughout her chest when she thought of him. When she thought of his slip in the Godswood, her heart raced. Did he love her? Was it possible that he did? Or was it another fool dream of a silly girl who never learned?

 

She had dismissed her handmaiden and had the candles brought down low. All with the expectation that people would believe she was staying in her room that evening. She knew that some of the guards and Lords suspected something between her and Jaime. At first, she hadn't cared. How much of her life had she given up to make other people happy? She married two men she didn't love because of duty and family. While Tyrion had treated her well, Ramsay was enough punishment for one lifetime. But now, when she had the one person she wanted in front of her, she couldn't keep it. It was frustrating. Heartbreaking. For so long she had thought that being Wardeness of the North was what she wanted. She wanted the power that came with being the Lady of Winterfell; she was finding that it was increasingly difficult to even feel that anymore. She knew she had to stay for Bran. He was coming back, slowly, to someone who could be a Lord. He wanted to learn, but it seemed to her that he would always have too much of the raven inside him to actually be Brandon Stark. 

 

It was just another aspect of her life in which she felt trapped. She didn't know what the plan would be had Bran been who he used to be. Would she have gone south with Jaime? Would she have married him? Would he have wanted to marry her? She swallowed the lump in her throat at the thought of so many missed opportunities. She heard two doors closed on her hall and knew that it was Jon and Bran entering their rooms. She sat on the edge of her bed and took a deep breath. They had been intimate with one another. By now, Jaime had touched and kissed nearly every inch of her body and she closed her eyes to revel in the memory. But tonight, she wanted him to help her make a new memory, to show her that being with a man would entail more than pain, fear, and disappointment. It was that thought which caused her to stand and walk to the door. She donned her cloak and pulled the hood over her head, then tucked the key into her pocket.

 

She closed the door softly behind her and moved quickly down the corridor and stairs, coming to the guest chambers. She checked to make sure it was clear before she went to the door of Jaime's room, contemplating knocking before she shook her head and slid the key into the lock. When she opened the door he was standing by the window. His head was lowered as he looked out at the falling snow and didn't turn until he heard the door lock. His eyes met hers and they reflected the same sorrow she felt. He didn't move from the window, though and she stepped closer to him. "This is much harder than I thought it would be," he admitted.

 

Sansa took his hand in hers and moved into his arms after a moment. She felt safe and wanted within his hold. "I can't let you leave without telling you goodbye," she whispered against the skin of his neck. "Properly."

 

He pressed his lips to the side of her head as his hand came up to cup her cheek. "You are a paragon of propriety."

 

She poked him in the side even as she bit her lip and smiled. "I blame you for my corruption," she said before she brushed her lips against his.

 

He helped her undo her cloak and tossed it on a chair. "People will blame me for it anyway," he whispered. He sealed their lips in a heated kiss, his tongue coming out to taste hers. She clutched the back of his head, wanting to keep him against her, kissing her. She wanted to imagine that there was no march South. There was just Jaime, whose sinful mouth caused her to be undone, and she, and they were the only things that mattered. There was no evil sister he would have to kill, there was no plan to help Jon and Daenerys take over the kingdom, and there was no responsibility keeping her from being with the man she...she couldn't even think the word. It would cause her to cry and she refused to cry. 

 

When he broke the kiss, she lifted her hands and undid the tie of her shift and he pulled her towards the bed. He pulled it down to her waist, baring her breast to him. He traced one scar for only a moment, then shoved her shift to the floor. She kicked off her slippers moved and onto the bed, Jaime crawling over her as she went. The heat of his body and his mouth caused her to shiver. She helped remove his jerkin and heard his boots fall to the floor with a thud. His tunic came off in hurry, her gasp filled the room as her hard nipples grazed his chest. He tilted her head up to him and he took her lips in a demanding kiss. His thumb slid along her throat, down to her collarbone, and then to the tip of her breast. His mouth took the same path and she whispered his name into the room.

 

Much as she wanted to take the time, and she knew that they had the entire night to do so, she wanted the torment to end. She wanted to stop guessing what it would be like to have him inside her, to chase away the memory of Ramsay, though she was realistic enough to know that nothing they could do would ever vanquish the horror he'd done to her. But with Jaime, she could pretend. Her hands slid down his chest and to the swell of his hard cock beneath his leathers. He groaned against her breast and captured his face with her other hand. He lifted his head and looked at her, the heat in his eyes caused her to press her thighs together to relieve some of the ache she felt for him.

 

He took her cue and shed his leathers, or tried. But she leaned forward and helped him and he rolled to his back. He tugged her on top of him, his arm holding her to him as he explored her skin with his fingers, soft caresses which caused her to sigh or moan. He tugged her to straddle his waist and he sat up to capture her breast in his mouth, swirling his tongue over the pink skin, and she pressed her head against his. She took a deep breath and reached between them, stroking over the length of him and it was his turn to gasp and her turn to smile. "Jaime," she whispered, "I want you inside me." Jaime looked up at her and she could see the question in his green eyes and she stroked her thumb over his jaw. "You had to know this is why I came," she said softly. "I'm sure that you know what to do so I don't get pregnant," she said as she held his face in both hands. "But I want you. I want this. That's all I know."

 

He nodded and placed several open-mouth kisses on her shoulder, her neck, and finally up to her lips. She settled down a bit more, following where his hand moved her. She let out a soft mewl of pleasure when the tip of his cock brushed along her cunt. Her mouth was suddenly dry, her body tightened in anticipation. He took her nipple into his mouth again and she dropped her head back when he finally was sheathed inside her. 

 

She took a moment, completely still above him, to adjust to the feel of him inside her. She was thankful she had never done anything with Ramsay in this position. He would never have given her so much control. She closed her eyes, pushing thoughts of that sadistic monster from her mind and instead leaned into the feel of Jaime’s fingers sliding over her skin.

 

He lay back on the bed, and she settled over him, her lips gliding over his. He guided her over him and she experimentally rolled her hips, finding a particular way that sent a spark of pleasure to surge through her body. His kiss was gentle but he groaned as she rolled her hips against his. He broke the kiss, his breathing was labored as hers. "Sit back," he urged and she did, propping her hands on his chest. She dropped her head back, finding that his cock was rubbing against a spot that had her unable to take a full breath. "Fuck," she heard him mutter and felt his fingers sliding from her hips, her stomach, her breasts and back again, all while she thrust against him. 

 

"Jaime," she purred and then let out a groan as his hips began thrusting against hers. She didn't know how long she would be able to stay above him as he continued to thrust into her as he was. Long, fast strokes and she couldn't catch her breath. She tried to remain quiet, but she thought it might be a lost cause when he touched her clit with his thumb. She did groan when he stopped, but he tugged her down to kiss him and began to thrust inside her harder and faster, but kept their lips melded together. 

 

Sansa came undone as his thumb pressed against her clit once more. She moaned into his mouth, aware of every inch of him inside her as she came. He broke the kiss and she watched his face as he pulled out of her, which caused her to whimper, and he closed his eyes and hissed her name. Sansa realized with fascination that he had come. She felt a power in knowing that she had caused that. That she had brought him to those heights and release.

 

*~*

 

Sansa had her head propped on her arm as she traced over his chest with her fingers. His eyes were closed, but there was a pleasant smile on his face that she tried to absorb into her memory. When everything else would feel like it would suffocate her, that the world was cruel and unkind, she would be able to remember his smile. 

 

“That tickles,” he said finally and captured her hand to bring it to his lips. She moved closer and rested her head on his shoulder, her breath teasing against his throat. He maneuvered to his side to face her and she mimicked him which caused another smile. “I adore you,” he said softly, his hand capturing hers. 

 

She laced her fingers with his. “I know. It’s completely unfair. All of it.”

 

He nodded and sighed. “We could say to hell with it and run away,” he offered.

 

She heaved a sigh and snuggled in closer to him. “That’s what started all this mess in the first place: a Southernor running off with a Stark.”

 

He rubbed his nose against her ear, the low rumble of his voice causing her to shiver. “Your brother already wants to kill me. Let’s give him another reason.”

 

She shook her head. “No. I want you alive.”

 

“Which is the opposite of what you wanted when I arrived.”

 

She pressed her lips against his throat. “You grew on me.”

 

“Like a fungus?” He asked and they both laughed. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I love your laugh.”

 

She closed her eyes. “I love you making me laugh.”

 

They were both silent for a long while and she thought he had fallen asleep until the sound of his voice filled the room. “How am I supposed to give you up? How do I walk away?”

 

“I’m not giving you a choice,” she whispered.

 

“Wasn't it you who once told me that I always have a choice?”

 

Sansa lifted her head and traced his jaw with his thumb. “Not this time.”

 

He took a deep breath and rolled her onto her back, a deep frown on his face. She brought her fingers up to his face and traced the line of his jaw. She could see the sadness and disappointment so clearly as she felt it in her heart as well. “So, we make the most of tonight. This is all we have for the rest of our lives?”

 

She swallowed thickly. “Yes. Unfortunately, that is our reality.”

 

“The reality is I know what I’m fighting for only I’m not allowed to have it. I have to let it go and that...goes against my nature.”

 

She leaned up and kissed him, driving her hands through his hair. She moaned against his lips as he slipped between her thighs. He broke the kiss and his lips moved along her throat. Sansa bit her bottom lip as her eyes met his when his lips closed over the stiffened peak of her nipple. The soft caress of his fingers over her side caused her to shiver and her back bowed towards him. 

 

Jaime slid his lips over her stomach, stopping to place a kiss on each hip. His lips trailed over the skin beneath her navel. He nipped at the sensitive skin of her inner thigh and she felt it was hard to breathe from the anticipation of feeling his mouth on her. He switched to her other thigh and she leaned up on her elbows to watch him. She released a low moan as his eyes met hers and he gave a long, slow swipe of his tongue over the wet folds of her cunt. “I should warn you,” he said in between kisses against her skin, “I intend to make sure you never forget me.” 

 

She wanted to argue and tell him that forgetting him wasn’t an option in the first place. However, Jamie’s persistence to prove his point caused her to drop back to the pillow, grip his hair, and moan his name.

 

*~*

 

Sansa stirred, feeling a lethargy and even an ache in her muscles. She lifted her head to see that it was still dark outside, but could barely make out the light over the keep. She needed to go before the keep was awake. She looked down at Jaime as he slept, hating that she was to say goodbye. 

 

She leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips and felt his hand come up to cup her face. She thrilled under the feel of his lips and then sat up. “I need to go.”

 

She moved from the bed and planned to ask for a bath be brought to her room later that morning. She examined her skin and could see whisker burns trailing over her breast and smiled a bit. She’d gladly carry those as long as they were there. She pulled her shift over her head and laced it up. He was suddenly behind her, his arms wrapped around her shoulders and she leaned back against him. “I find I’m missing words to tell you how much I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

 

She turned in his arms and leaned up to place a kiss on his lips. “Thank you, Jamie.”

 

He scoffed. “What are you thanking me for?”

 

She leaned in and wrapped her arms around his waist. “You gave me a really wonderful night. None of it replaces what happened to me in the past.” She thought she had done a remarkable job of keeping the tears at bay. However, she realized she was crying when she felt his fingers swipe at the tears that rolled down her cheek. “And you must know that I could never forget you.”

 

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Sure you won’t run away with me?” He whispered and she chuckled.

 

“Don’t tempt me,” she whispered back. “If you ever doubt that there is someone in this world who cares for you, don’t.”

 

“Cares?”

 

She shook her head, knowing that he wanted her to truly confess how she felt for him. “I won’t say it,” she hissed. “If I do, then I’ll never let you go.”

 

She pulled back from him and grabbed her cloak from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. He still had his back to her. She picked his tunic up from the floor, and instead of giving it to him, she hid it beneath her cloak. She placed a kiss on his shoulder and he glanced at her before he looked back out the window. 

 

She turned and walked to the door and crept out of the room quickly.

 

*~*

 

Sansa stood beside Brienne as they watched the horses brought out and saddled. Sansa had managed to get her emotions under control and had stopped crying by the time her protector had appeared at her door, not willing to allow the departure of her family to keep them from practice. Sansa knew that Brienne might see it as a good distraction.

 

She was distracted from her thoughts by Tyrion who gave her a sad smile. “I believe this farewell will go better than our last.”

 

Sansa shrugged. “As I recall, we didn’t actually say goodbye last time. Besides, not much worse could happen now, right?”

 

Tyrion nodded. “I’m afraid you’re right. But you’re a survivor. I have an ability to maneuver out of most situations. Perhaps we’ll make it through this.”

 

“I wish you good fortune,  _ husband _ .”

 

He placed a kiss on the back of her hand. “And you,  _ wife _ .”

 

Davos exited with Jon and Daenerys next. Davos gave her a nod and she placed a kiss on his cheek. “Everyone accuses the North to be cold and unfeeling. I’d argue against that.”

 

Sansa smiled. “Keep them all in line, Ser Davos. Especially my former husband.”

 

“An impossible task, my lady.” He gave her a final nod and walked to his horse. 

 

She moved over to Jon and Daenerys. Her cousin, her  _ brother _ , hugged her. He would always be her brother, the one who rode to fight for their home and swore to protect her from Ramsay. “I’ll miss you, Jon. Mainly arguing with you,” she heard him chuckle in her ear. She passed on one piece of advice, hoping that he would listen, “Please be careful and don't underestimate Cersei and what she's willing to do to keep what she’s stolen.” 

 

He heaved a sigh. “I won’t. You take care of yourself. Learn as much as you can from Brienne and take care of Bran. The North is yours. I have nothing but confidence in you.”

 

She took a deep breath and turned to find Daenerys. “I’ve never been one who has an ability to say goodbye.”

 

Sansa gave her a small smile. “It’s not goodbye. We’ll see one another again.”

 

“As we’re family, yes. So...farewell, then?”

 

She nodded and heaved a sigh. “Doesn’t make it any easier.”

 

Sansa shook her head. “It does not.”

 

Daenerys leaned forward and hugged her. “You take care of yourself.”

 

She took a deep breath. “Don’t take Cersei lightly. That’s how she’s gained power and she will do anything to keep it.”

 

Daenerys pulled back and nodded. “We'll take the Iron Throne. With Fire and Blood.”

 

Sansa smiled. “Winter is Coming for Cersei Lannister.”

 

Daenerys smiled then turned to Jon who helped her onto her horse. Sansa stepped back and took a deep breath when Jaime stopped in front of her, Sansa glancing at Jon as he eyed them, but Daenerys drew his attention to the saddle.

 

“I still don’t have words,” he said softly.

 

“Neither do I.” She was aware that people were watching them and she straightened her shoulders. “I wish you good fortune, Jaime.”

 

He nodded. “I hope you find happiness, my lady.”

 

“I did. For a night, at least.”

 

He bowed his head to her and climbed onto his horse. Jon and Daenerys led the way out of the keep, Drogon and Rhaegal flying overhead as she watched her family leave. She gripped the hilt of her sword tightly as Jaime gave her one last nod and rode out beside Tyrion and Davos.

 

Brienne was at her side. “Are you alright, my lady?”

 

She nodded and took a deep breath, resigned to her fate. “Yes. We’ll train for a little while longer and then I’ll go in and help my brother.”

 

“Of course,” she said softly. “After you, my lady.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Nominations are done, now it's time for voting! Go vote for your favorite Jonerys Fan Fictions of 2017!
> 
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	68. Medical hiatus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Medical hiatus

Hi everyone!

Thank you for taking the time to read this story. Unfortunately I’ve come with not songreat news. My back is totally messed up and I’m going to have to have surgery to repair it. I’ve been putting it off for years but I’m not getting over it this time. I don’t know when the next chapter will be finished but I have started on it. Thank you for all your love and support and I hope you’ll stick around until inter back with a chapter from:

 

**BRAN**


	69. Bran I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bran is frustrated by his ability to only feel things like anger and despair. Happiness is but a fleeting bubble of emotion. Their enemy gets new information that makes them more aware of their lack of true security where they are. He acquires a sworn sword and fishes out a spy in Winterfell. Northron justice is swift and sure. He also makes a plan for his future and his frustration with his sister still simmers along the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go Vote in the 2017 Jonerys Fan Fiction Awards.  
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> 
> Thanks to the incredible Sparkles59 for reading over this and fixing words for me. Laying in bed and typing this on my phone is difficult, however having friends like her and the other lovely Discernable Tarts (Justwanderingneverlost, jaqtkd, FrostBitePanda, mesie, and NoOrdinaryLines) means that my days pass by quickly and I have someone there who will read over my crap and make it better!

 

 

**BRAN**

 

He watched from the upper rampart as Jon, Daenerys and the rest of their company departed. Drogon and Rhaegal flew overhead and he felt a great sadness to see Jon leave. He’d seen everything his... _brother_ had suffered. He knew the truth, had seen it all himself, but he still thought of Jon as his brother.

 

Sam waved from the wagon he, Gilly, and little Sam were in. Bran thought it was better if they went with Jon as they didn’t have a Maester and Gilly had helped deliver babies for her sisters and could help Daenerys.

 

Jon and Daenerys rode to the front of the line and the large army began moving with them slowly. He heard the clanging of swords and turned to see Tormund and Brienne practicing with Sansa and Podrick.

 

Watching her made him think of Jaime then Cersei and he drifted away into the thought, his mind flying along the rivers and valleys, finally finding a murder of crows and delivered his mind to them. He flew over the ground, the wind whipping through his feathers.

 

The Red Keep was coming closer, it’s numerous balconies open for a listen. He found the Queen sitting alone in her room, her crown on the table in front of her, wine glass in her hand.

 

_The door to her chamber opened and she looked up at her Hand, Qyburn. “Your Grace, we’ve...received word from our source at Winterfell about your brother.”_

 

_She pursed her lips together and kept her eyes on her hand. “He’s still alive, I presume.”_

 

_“Yes, your grace.” He took a deep breath. “This is merely rumor as they weren’t able to confirm, but the keep was speaking of it. It appears your brother has taken a lover.”_

 

_She rolled her eyes. “Not surprised. Tyrion never turned down a whore with a sob story.”_

 

_“Not...that brother.”_

 

_Cersei looked at him sharply, her chin quivering. Her lips pulled back over her teeth as she grit out the word, “Who?”_

 

_At that, Qyburn looked at the parchment. “The Lady Of Winterfell. Sansa Sta...”_

 

_She was on her feet then moving to the balcony. Her fingers digging into the stone. “I want her dead! I want her whole family dead! I want Sansa Stark’s head delivered to me! A knighthood and castle to the person who does it.” She hissed and turned back to the table and drained her wine. “What other news?”_

 

Bran took a deep breath as he released from the raven and rubbed his head. It ached at times when he wargged, especially using animals at such a distance.

 

This presented a few issues though. There was someone sending information to the Red Keep from Winterfell. He could figure that out easily enough. He turned to the guard at his side. “When Sansa is done with her training, ask her and her protector to come to the study. We have much to discuss.”

 

*~*

 

“What do you mean by _she knows_?” Sansa asked. Brienne looked confused as well.

 

“Cersei. She knows about you and Jaime.”

 

She rolled her eyes and looked down at her hands, a slight blush creeping onto her face. “There is no more Jaime and me.”

 

Bran took a deep breath, angry with her for putting herself in this situation. Sad for her that she was unhappy. Why couldn’t he feel anything other than these emotions? “She's offered a knighthood _and_ a castle to the man who brings her _your_ head.”

 

Brienne furrowed her brow. “I swear on my honor, my lady, that I will protect you.”

 

Sansa nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll carry my sword with me from now on, as well. There needs to be more than you, though. You’ll have to sleep and I don’t intend for Tormund to come after me because you’re now constantly with me.”

 

Bran tilted his. “What about Podrick? He’s got a steady hand with a sword and managed to save Tyrion’s life in the past and more recently.”

 

Brienne looked at Bran. “My Lord, you don’t have a dedicated guard for you. What if he became _your_ guard?”

 

He thought on that a moment. Bran didn’t have anyone that stood at his side willing to protect him, random guards were assigned to help him, but a dedicated sword like Sansa had with Brienne would put him at peace. He also knew, from what he’d seen in the past, that Podrick was dedicated to those he swore to protect. Bran nodded. “I feel we should ask him before the decision is simply made for him.”

 

Brienne nodded. “Jon left the Wildlings to guard Winterfell. We can speak with Tormund to figure out if any of them would be willing to guard you as well. You’ll have your sword, but I would feel better about it if you always had someone with you. At least until Cersei is dealt with.”

 

Sansa nodded. “We’ll speak with Tormund then. Have one of the guards fetch Podrick from the Hall where he’s breaking his fast. We’ll ask him now.”

 

*~*

 

Sansa sat beside Bran is what she has deemed as Bran’s study now. However, it would always remind him of his father. His honorable, loyal, selfless father. He again felt sadness when he thought about him. It was never a feeling of joy or happiness, emotions he could feel touching around the edges of his heart, but they never flourished.

 

The door opened and Podrick came in as well as Tormund and Brienne wrinkled her brow. “This looks like something serious.”

 

Bran beckoned him in. “Some of this will concern you as well.”

 

Sansa tilted her head as she began to speak. “Bran has had a vision of Cersei. She’s called for my...head,” she said softly, almost as if it finally occurred to her what Bran had told her. “She’s threatened the whole family, actually.”

 

She grew silent and Bran continued. “We need more people to guard Sansa than just Brienne as she needs sleep and couldn’t possibly be with Sansa every hour of every day. Skilled fighters would be preferred, Tormund. I know the Freefolk aren’t sworn to serve anyone, but could you find a few who would protect Jon Snow's sister?”

 

Tormund nodded. “Aye. I believe that can be done. I assume girls would be suitable for guards?”

 

Sansa nodded. “Of course.”

 

Bran looked to Podrick, then. He was a young man, loyal to those who were loyal to him. Bronn and Tyrion thought highly of him and Jaime wanted him protected and sent him to Brienne. Podrick Payne would do whatever he had to do to protect those he was sworn to. He would be an excellent knight.

 

“Podrick, in light of the news of a heightened threat from Cersei, and our need to step up security for Sansa, there is a need to increase my security as well. I wonder if you would be my sworn sword?”

 

Podrick seemed stunned and he turned questioning eyes to Brienne. “Do you think I am good enough, my lady?”

 

She made a face at the title and nodded. “I know you well enough that you would protect Lord Stark with your life. You have honor and loyalty. Those are very rare in this world. I believe there could be no better person to protect Lord Stark.”

 

Bran felt a bubble of happiness at the look on Podrick’s face. But the reality of the danger he was in seeped forward to crush it. Happiness never lingered long and he grew frustrated. “My Lord,” he began, “it would be my honor to serve you. Would I still be allowed to train with Lady Brienne?”

 

Bran nodded. “I insist that you do. I’ll also find another guard that can watch over me at night.”

 

Tormund spoke then. “I know of a few Wildlings who would want to fight for Jon Snow. They’re not much older than you. They could perhaps be persuaded to protect you. Especially if they knew you had the sight.”

 

Bran took a deep breath. “I would like to meet with them, Tormund. Thank you.” He then looked at Sansa, “We do have the problem of a spy in the Keep. That’s how she knows of you and Jaime.”

 

“Can you see who it is?” His sister questioned, concern lacing her tone.

 

“Podrick, please help me to the Gods wood. It’s easier for me to see there.”

 

He nodded and helped Bran move his chair out of the room. The walk was quiet. “I know you served Tyrion well,” Bran said as they made their way down the ramp that had been made for his chair. “I hope I can inspire the same loyalty.”

 

Podrick smiled and looked down at his new liege lord. “If I’ve learned anything from being with the Starks it’s that they inspire loyalty from their own actions. You, my Lord, helped in the war for the Dawn by providing information. I also know that Lady Meera Reed was devoted to you and Samwell spoke highly of you. I hope _I_ can be the guard you need.”

 

Bran smiled a bit. “I believe you will be, Podrick. At supper, I will Knight you, if you wish.”

 

Podrick parked him in front of the weeping tree. “I appreciate that, My Lord, but I don’t know that I’ve done anything yet to deserve such an honor.”

 

He nodded. “You know that I can see everything that has ever happened. I watched you save Tyrion’s life, I saw you fight beside Brienne to protect Sansa when she escaped Ramsay. I’ve seen your good deeds, your loyalty. I could Knight you here and now based on that alone.” Podrick lowered his head. “However, if you feel that you would best be knighted after you’ve achieved something for me, then I shall respect your wishes.”

 

Podrick smiled. “Thank you, my Lord.”

 

He helped Bran get closer to the tree.

 

_Bran saw Qyburn receive the message but followed the memory backward, soaring with the raven over the hills. Suddenly, he was in Winterfell, and parchment was being tied to his leg by a man. When he turned his head, he saw that it was the servant who had been responsible for tending the guest chambers, Raymon Rivers. He’d watched Sansa, days before, leaving Jaime’s room before dawn._

 

He pulled out of the memory and looked at Podrick. “I know who it was.”

 

Podrick tilted his head at Bran. “What do you want to do?”

 

“He’s betrayed my family. He is guilty of treason. We’ll go to the courtyard. I’ll have someone fetch Sansa and call everyone out into the yard. We need to make an example that betraying my family to Cersei, or anyone else, will be punishable by death.”

 

Podrick nodded. “I’ll have them fetch the stone for you. Will you have someone swing the sword?”

 

Bran shook his head, hearing his father’s grim voice in his head. “No. _The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword_. My father lived by that, my brothers lived by that. I will follow as they have led.”

 

“As you wish, my Lord.”

 

*~*

 

Bran was seated as people began to fill the courtyard. Raymon stood amongst the other servants, his dark hair and beard etched with grey. He felt fury at this man for jeopardizing his family, trading secrets to an enemy of not only his family but the entire realm. He would be an example at the Starks are in control in Winterfell and they would not tolerate those who sought to betray them.

 

Once everyone was out of the Keep, Bran nodded to two of the guards who brought the block and placed it in the open space between them and their people. Sansa spoke first. “Winterfell has been the home of the Starks for generations. We fought hard to get it back from monsters. We defended it against the dead. Yet, we still have those amongst us who would betray us.”

 

When they had first arrived in the courtyard, Sansa and Brienne together, Bran had asked Brienne to use her sword. “Allow me to use your sword. It was forged from my father’s blade.” She had untied her sword belt and placed it in his hands.

 

Podrick pushed Bran’s chair to the stone. He sat forward, the blade resting across his lap. He remembered the first time he saw this sort of justice dispensed and Jon’s words to not look away. “My Father was an honorable man. He believed in duty and loyalty. There is a spy amongst us and the penalty for treason is death.” He nodded to Tormund and one of the other guards. They walked to the man who was trembling at this point. Tormund and the other guard, a man named Jared Forrester, from Ironrath.

 

“Ramon Rivers, you are accused of treason. You’ve been caught sending information to Cersei Lannister, sworn enemy to House Stark. How do you answer these charges?”

 

Ramon lifted his head and scowled. “I would like to question my accuser.”

 

“Very well. I am your accuser. You sent a letter regarding my sister to the Hand of Cersei Lannister, Qyburn. You did this three days ago, before you began taking care of the guest quarters. Do you deny it?”

 

Ramon glanced at Sansa who had her head held high. “It was your sister who acted improperly.”

 

Bran didn’t look at her, instead, kept his hand on the sword, feeling his anger mount. “I take that as a confession.”

 

Ramon seemed to realize what he said and turned his attention to Bran and the sword that lay across his lap. Bran nodded to Tormund, and the Wildling and Forrester put Ramon Rivers down to the block. The sword made an eerie sound as Bran slid it from its sheath. He bent his head over the hilt of the sword, asking the Old Gods his father prayed to to make his cut swift and sure. He didn’t need to look weak in front of his people. He could be a cripple, but he had to instill in them that he was still someone to be respected.

 

“In the name of Aegon and Daenerys Targaryen, Lord and Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protectors of the Realm, I, Brandon of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of the North, sentence you to die.” He lifted the sword, felt the heavy weight of it in his hands and what his decision would mean. Bran closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his father’s death, his mother and Robb, Rickon. It fueled his anger, caused him to tighten his hands on the hilt. As he lifted the sword, he swung down with all his might, the rage inside speeding the blade quickly. Ramon was dead in seconds as his head fell to the ground. Bran handed the sword to Podrick and looked at the people still assembled.

  
“I am the Lord of Winterfell. My sister is the Lady of Winterfell. Any who betray us to our enemies _is our_ enemy. We will meet betrayal with justice.”

 

*~*

 

Bran closed his eyes against memories of the past and tried to open himself up to the present. He was relieved to see Jon and Daenerys had made it a good distance south. They were still in the North but should reach Riverrun in a week. As he watched them, they were discussing baby names within the safety of their tent. Jon was actually rubbing her feet.

 

_“For a boy, Jahaerys.”_

 

 _Jon looked up at her with a smile_ . _“You do realize that this child does have Stark blood as well.”_

 

_She frowned at him. “I realize that, yes, but it will be more Targaryen then Stark.”_

 

_He grunted. “I like Robb.”_

 

_Her face melted into a warm smile. “Your brother,” she said softly. “Who was named after the man that ousted my family?”_

 

_“Robb is for my brother. The only name I consider. I saw Robert Baratheon one time. Growing up, Robb and I were very close, despite the wishes of his mother.”_

 

_She heaved a sigh. “Well, I suppose I’ll consider Robb as a name for a boy.”_

 

_“And a girl? What if we have a beautiful blond princess?”_

 

_“Rhaella? After my mother.” He stopped massaging her feet for a moment. “What?”_

 

_He smiled. “I just got this picture in my head of this beautiful little girl who looks like you running to me calling me Pa. I can’t describe the feeling that washed through me.”_

 

_She swiped at her eyes and he looked at her concerned. “I’m fine. I promise. Just...the thought of watching that moment caused such a bubble of happiness inside me. It scares me, Jon. What if something happens and I can’t give you that?”_

 

_He moved to sit beside her on the bed. “Dany, we’ll face that if it comes, but you know I love you and nothing will ever pull us apart.”_

 

Bran removed himself the moment, still struggling to understand better what moments he should and shouldn’t observe. He felt as if watching longer would have been an intrusion.

 

The knock at the door broke him away from those thoughts. He looked up to find Podrick at his door. “My Lord, Lady Sansa has requested you join her for supper in her room.”

 

Bran gave a nod to the guard and he rolled him in his chair to Sansa’s room. Sansa stood at the window staring out at the night sky. “Good evening, Sansa.”

 

She turned to smile at him. “Bran. I hope you don’t mind dining in here instead of the Hall. They’ve been gone for nearly two weeks and it’s still hard.”

 

Bran watched her, knowing that it wasn’t just Jon, Arya, or Daenerys that Sansa missed. Her lover, Jaime, still weighed heavily on her as he had seen her conversations with Brienne. She was having as hard a time of letting go as Jaime, who had taken to drinking with Tyrion nightly. He knew most of their conversations usually revolved around Sansa and possible scenarios in which they could still be together.

 

“I don’t mind at all. Much easier for us to talk.”

 

She smiled and sat across from him as their food was served. “I’ve been thinking about what to do about your Meera situation. I _do_ think a letter with a courier would work best. If ravens can’t reach inside their keep, then a person is our only option.”

 

Bran sighed and took a bite of his stew. “What would I even say?”

 

“Well, you start off with groveling. Beg her forgiveness for being so cold. Your best option is to tell the truth. You miss her terribly and you hate how you left things.”

 

He wrinkled his nose, not sure if he liked leaving himself so emotionally exposed. “That seems a little too personal.”

 

She raised a perfect eyebrow. “Bran, she dragged you through the North. She protected you when you had no one else. She obviously cares for you, otherwise why would she be so upset? It needs to be personal.”

 

“You’ll help me write it?”

 

She nodded. “Of course. But you need to be the one to actually do the writing. I’ll simply be the one to read it over. Remember, it needs to be from the heart.”

 

Bran nodded, finding his emotions about this to be rather confusing. His heart was racing at the thought that Meera might accept his apology. Sansa was quiet then and he heaved a sigh, knowing she was curious about their trip south. “Sansa, instead of shoving your food around your plate, ask me what you want to ask me.”

 

“How are Arya and Gendry?”

 

Bran nodded and folded his hands in his lap. “They’re well. They found an old friend of theirs when they were traveling together the first time. The Hound is ready to kill him because he talks so much. Arya and Gendry themselves are well enough. They should make it pass Harrenhal in a few days.”

 

“Are there a lot of soldiers there?”

 

“Yes, but they’re going to go past quickly in the night.”

 

She heaved a released sigh. “And Jon and Daenerys?”

 

He nodded. “Also doing well. Traveling by day, meetings at night. Daenerys is concerned because Rhaegal is acting strange, but there are no experts on dragons. He does seem to calm whenever Jon and Daenerys are around. So, their tent is always close to where the dragons are.”

 

“Can you see what’s wrong with him?”

 

He shook his head. “I haven’t seen anyone touch him. It may be from the scuffle he had with Drogon, but I can’t see more than that.”

 

“Scuffle with Drogon?”

 

“Yes, when Jon and Daenerys arrived back from the Eyrie. Drogon wrestled him to the ground and pinned him by his neck. A few of the Unsullied watched this but he let him up and when Rhaegal didn’t do anything else they left the matter alone.”

 

Sansa furrowed her brow. “That’s bizarre.” She turned her mind from the dragons to others and Bran knew she was getting close to the topic she really wanted to discuss: Jaime.

 

“How is Tyrion?”

 

“Fine. Concerned about Daenerys and Jon and her safety since she’s pregnant. Also been drinking with his brother, lamenting where it all went wrong.”

 

She picked up her goblet and before she took a sip she asked, “How is Jaime?”

 

Bran shook his head. “Seems to be fine.”

 

She put her goblet back on the table and looked at her hands. “Does he ever mention me?”

 

“Sansa,” he heaved out in an exasperated sigh, “You told him it had to be over when he went South. Why would you want to keep this wound open?”

 

She stood and moved back to the window. “I don’t _want_ to, Bran. But I can’t make my feelings for him go away simply because he’s no longer here. I’m concerned for him. I should be allowed to _feel_ that.”

 

Bran wrinkled his brow, struggling with his frustration at her. He wanted her to put Jaime from her mind. He didn’t want her to continue to hurt in regards to a future she could never have. “You are. But it’s no use. No matter how many plans there are, Jaime can not live in Winterfell and be with you.”

 

“What about Casterly Rock?” She whispered.

 

He looked down at his hands, wondering if she would actually go and leave Winterfell. He spoke only the truth he knew, hoping it would discourage her. “Daenerys still has troops there which means she holds it, not Jaime, and there is nothing saying she will give it back. I urge you, Sansa, let this go. I don’t want to see you suffer.”

 

She looked at him, her face angry and tears brimming her eyes. “I already suffer, Bran.”

 

He pushed his plate away and placed his hands in his lap. “You’ll recover from this. With all you’ve already endured, you came out of it stronger, with a better sense of who you are. You’ll come back from this, too, Sansa.”

 

She heaved a sigh and the moved over to her vanity and removed a quill, ink, and parchment. She put it in front of Bran then moved her chair over to sit beside him. “What are you doing?”

 

She gave him a soft smile. “There’s no hope for the future I want. But you still have the chance to be happy. Let’s make that happen,” she said as she urged him to pick up the quill and he dabbed it in ink. It was now clear to Bran that Sansa truly needed a distraction and he should better prepare her a few.

 

_Meera_

 

_I can’t begin to put into words how sorry I am for how I treated you when you came to say goodbye to me._

 

He looked up at Sansa who smiled. “Well, how is that?”

 

“Not bad. Keep going. Tell her you were a fool to let her go, you feel empty without her near.” Bran wrinkled his nose and Sansa smiled. “A little too poetic?”

 

“I was thinking _desperate_ , but I suppose _poetic_ works as well.”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Bran, she came to you to say goodbye and you didn’t react. You let her go. Whether you were too focused on the war and everything you’d seen is irrelevant at this point. You’re still here. You’re more...you. There’s a reason she stayed with you so long. You know her. Appeal to the person you know.”

 

_I think a part of me did die in that cave. But it had to. Now that the war with the dead is over, I’m remembering who I was before. How it felt to be Brandon Stark. With that comes the realization that I wronged and hurt you. Without you, I would truly be dead. Please come to Winterfell. I could better explain it all if I could simply see you again._

 

_Yours,_

_Bran_

 

He took a deep breath and handed it over to Sansa. She smiled. “Not exactly a love song for the ages but it’s direct. What will you do if she comes?”

 

She stood and retrieved the Stark seal and the red candle. She rolled the parchment then poured the wax on and used the seal to close it. “I’ll ask her to marry me.”

 

Sansa dropped the seal on the table and looked at him. “What?”

 

“I don’t understand your surprise. That’s the entire purpose of the letter. To get her to come to Winterfell so I can ask her to marry me.”

 

He watched her right the seal and took a deep breath. “Bran, I hope she accepts,” she said with a small smile.

 

*~*

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that fan fiction writers don't get paid to churn out content. We're people with feelings, lives, and real pain that we sometimes use writing to help us deal with, unfortunately. With that in mind, the only currency we get, aside from our own anxiety of whether the chapter was good enough, are comments. Even if you're unsure that your comment would mean anything, they always do! I'm not saying this to get my comments number jacked up, but I know several women who write incredible stories that deserve praise. So, remember, comment and let us know what you think. Good or bad. We prefer not bad. But if it's constructive, we can handle it.


	70. Arya XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The closer they get to King's Landing, the harder it is for Arya to ignore her wish to be the one to kill Cersei. Gendry doesn't take this very well. Farewells are said and cracks start to be mended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by the song _Sleep well my angel_ by **We Are The Fallen**.
> 
> Thanks to **sparkles59** for reading over this chapter! Also to the lovely discerning tarts who listened to me whine about Arya being so damn stubborn. Shout out to those wonderful women and their fantastic WIPs, which I will now list. You should read everything they write. After this chapter, of course!  
>  **FrostBitePanda** \- [Ozymandian](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11756214) & [Thumbprint Scar](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13324446)  
>  **Meisie** \- [Up Against the Wall](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12742644)  
>  **jaqtkd** \- [Here Be Dragons](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12931443) & [Silent Declarations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11903541)  
>  **Sparkles49** \- [D is for Direwolf](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13057944), & [When You Hitch Your Star To Mine](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13135512)  
>  **Justwanderingneverlost** \- [How We Heal](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12243456)
> 
> I'm having surgery on Feb 1, so maybe you'll get another chapter before that. Who knows?
> 
> Time is almost up for voting in the **2017 Jonerys Fic Award**. Thank you to every who nominated this fic! It is super appreciated.  
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**ARYA**

 

They could barely see in front of them, the darkness of night encompassing them completely. The only light came from the torches inside the broken ruin of Harrenhal. The air was cold that Arya thought she could almost see her breath in front of her or the breath of her horse. She was following the Hound, Gendry beside her. She could hear the heavy breathing of Hot Pie behind her, his fear almost a tangible thing she could hold in her hand.

 

Harrenal held horrific memories for them. So much uncertainty about what their lives would become. She felt a hand on her knee, the fingers moving over her leathers and she realized it was Gendry reaching for her. She put her hand in his, lacing their fingers together, her leg touching his. She couldn’t see him, but feeling him beside her, reaching for her, gave her a sense of comfort and allowed her to breathe a bit easier. They were each other’s rock. He sought her, and she was relieved for it.

 

She took a deep breath as they got further and further away from the castle. Smaller homesteads could be seen from the road, but the Hound kept leading them forward until they came to a thick forest and led them through until the sound of water could be heard. Beside a stream, Arya finally released Gendry’s hand and they all dismounted. Some of the soldiers with them, Harry, Peeta, and an affable man named Rhys, all went about setting up camp. Hot Pie started the fire as Gendry and Arya went to the stream to collect water. They reached the camp the same time the Hound came back. He had a fox, three rabbits, and an owl. He tossed them at Hot Pie’s feet and went to set up his own tent. Harry and Peeta helped skin and pluck the animals, while Rhys sang a few songs to pass the time.

 

Arya huddled close to Gendry and closed her eyes for only a moment before she was being shaken awake and handed a bowl of stew and what appeared to be the leg of one of the animals. “How far are we from the Red Keep,” she asked.

 

“Week,” the Hound answered.

 

She ate her stew, her mind swirling around the prospect of possibly sneaking into the city, taking Cersei’s maid’s face. And ending the war. She knew their plan. Storm's End was her future, but it would be so easy. No one would suspect her. Gendry could take his group and go to his ancestral home. He said he needed her, but she had seen him fight. He could handle himself. She could meet him there after.

 

She looked over at him, his bowl discarded, his arms around his knees as he stared into the fire. Her stubborn bull. More bull than stag, at least to her. She would explain it to him. He’d listen and he’d let her go.

 

She handed her bowl off to one of the others and they set about cleaning up the camp and settling in to their tents. She tugged on Gendry towards their tent and she removed her outer cloak as did he. She rolled out their bed and pulled out another fur and lay it down. He was removing his boots when she finally whispered to him. “I’m not going to Storm's End.”

 

The boot thudded to the ground and she couldn’t meet his eyes but could feel them as they stared into her. “What?”

 

“I’m not going. Yet. I’m going to King's Landing and I’m going to kill Cersei.” His other boot hit the ground and she watched as he lay back on their bedroll. He didn’t say anything else, just put his back to her. “Gendry,” she started and was shocked by how quickly he had sat up to face her.

 

“What? Huh? You want to tell me how I should feel? That I should _understand_? Well, I fucking don’t! I’m not going to pretend to be happy. I’m not going to act as if this doesn’t feel like a betrayal because it fucking does, Arya.” He moved a hand through his hair. “I’m just supposed to understand because we love one another. But we made promises and I think I’ve fucking kept mine.”

 

She felt herself growing angry. “You can take Storm's End without me.”

 

“That's not the point and you know it.” He lay back and turned his back to her again. “I don’t want to argue about this again. Do what you want. You will whether I like it or not.”

 

Arya moved closer to Gendry and turned him to face her. “I’ve wanted to kill her since before you and I met. She’s responsible for all the horrid things that happened to my family. I have every right to kill her.”

 

“Cersei killed my father,” he said finally. “She tried to kill me because I was his bastard that looked more like him than the rest the ones they tried to pass off as his heirs. I have every right to want her dead, too. The difference is _I’m trying_ to put other people ahead of my wants.”

 

“You didn’t even know your father! _My_ father was a honorable, nobel man, and they killed him and called him a traitor!”

 

She didn’t know why but the wounded look on his face made everything else hurt more. “A bastard to the end,” he said before he lay down and put his back to her again. She choked back tears, wanting to tell him she didn’t think of him like that. He was more. But she had to kill Cersei. She _had to._

 

*~*

 

Three days had passed and Gendry hadn’t said a word to her. He was always up before she awoke and feigned sleep when she went to bed. He stayed near Hot Pie and Harry as they rode leaving her with The Hound.

 

It was on this third day that Clegane finally asked why she was being so nasty to everyone. “I’m not.”

 

“Oh? Is that why everyone is avoiding you?”

 

“You’re riding with me,” she pointed out.

 

“I don’t want to get stuck talking to Hot Pie.”

 

“We had a fight.”

 

“Everyone heard your fucking fight. Why haven’t you fixed it?”

 

“I’m going to kill Cersei. It’s that simple.”

 

“Is it?”

 

“I can get in the keep and kill her easier than anyone.”

 

He was silent a moment and frowned. “And what if you fail? What if he dies?”

 

“He can fight.”

 

The Hound growled. “You’re being stupid, girl. There are too many things that can go wrong. You’re wasting time on a pointless vendetta.”

 

“It’s not pointless! She helped kill my father...”

 

“She's helped kill a lot of people. This isn’t about you.”

 

“Just shut up.”

 

“Ask yourself this question, girl, if he dies, and you could have stopped it, will you be able to live with that guilt and loss?”

 

She pulled out ahead just far enough to get away from the Hound.

 

*~*

 

Arya was setting up their tent. Gendry and the Hound were on the other side of the campfire. She wanted to use the hammer in her hand to bash both the Hound and Gendry until they both saw this for how it really was.  

 

She was going to kill Cersei. Just her.

 

She was so distracted by her thoughts that the firm yank on her hair and knife at her throat caught her by surprise, and she yelped.

 

She looked up to see Gendry had jumped clear over the fire, hammer in hand, standing only a foot away from her. But the blade pressed harder to her throat and others came out of the woods, holding their swords to the group.

 

“All of ya drop your weapons or da little bitch gets it.” When no one moved, he tugged back on her again. “Come on! If ya all do what yar told, we won’ make ya watch as we rape her!” A few others laughed and her eyes met Gendry’s. She knew exactly where this tub of a man was behind her. Knew every point she had to hit.

 

She winked at Gendry and he gave a slow smile. “You’re dead,” he said softly and Arya whipped the knife from her belt and stabbed him in the gut and ducked as a Gendry swung his hammer into his head, sending him to the ground. She pulled out Needle as she and Gendry moved to help the others, but with the Hound leading them, the rest of the bandits were soon incapacitated.

 

Gendry was suddenly hit in the shoulder with an arrow and Harry killed the man with the crossbow. All of the others were dead as her lover fell to his knees. The Hound examined the wound and removed his knife and cut the fabric around the arrow wound. “Looks clean. Fat boy, go get some water from that stream and boil it.” Hot Pie did what he was told. “At least you aren’t crying like a bitch.”

 

Gendry winced. “Ever hit your fingers with a hammer on an anvil?”

 

“No,” he replied.

 

“This almost hurts more.”

 

“Girl, take off your sword belt and remove your scabbards.” She did as she was told and handed him the belt. Hot Pie had boiling water and set it beside Arya. “We’ll need that to clean the wound. Boy, put that belt between your teeth and try not to scream too loud when I yank this arrow out.”

 

Arya helped him as she moved to sit in front of him on her knees. “Hold his shoulders steady.”

 

She nodded and put both hands on Gendry's shoulders, holding him still as the Hound handed him a cask of wine. “Drink all of that down, boy.”

 

“Shouldn’t we use that for cleaning the wound?” Arya asked.

 

He took a cask from Harry. “Rum. Better for wounds,” he said as he still avoided touching the arrow. “Boy, as soon as I pull this arrow out of the Lord’s arm, pour that into it,” he said to Harry who gave a nod.

 

Arya’s eyes met Gendry's and it was really the first time she had looked at him in days. She noticed the bags under his eyes, the anger that flashed in them, but from the arrow or her presence she didn’t know. “Hold him, girl,” the Hound barked and before either could react, he pulled the arrow out, and Gendry's eyes widened as he screamed around the leather strap in his mouth. He gripped her thighs as the rum was poured into the wound.

 

She watched him take shuddering breaths. He groaned as the Hound began stitching up the wound. Arya released his shoulders and took the strap from his mouth. When he was done, the Hound sat back. “Keep the wound cleaned and bandaged. Take him down to the stream and clean him up.”

 

She stood and grabbed the bag Gendry kept his clothes in and helped him stand. They sat at the edge of the flowing water. She helped Gendry out of his torn and blood soaked shirt. “Maybe you should fashion yourself some armor. Keep things like this from happening.”

 

He didn’t say anything as she washed the blood from his back. She didn’t look at the wound, and the longer he was silent the more frustrated she became. “Talk to me.”

 

“I need more wine,” he said as he lowered his head. She began wrapping clean linens around his arm and shoulder, a deep sadness pooling in the pit of her stomach. He was turning away from her because she had hurt him. He had still rushed to her rescue, but his anger was still firmly in place.

 

When she finished, she moved around in front of him and took his face in her hands. “Please, _try_ to understand.”

 

His face was emotionless and he removed himself from her touch. “Are you done?”

 

“Gendry...”

 

He shook his head. “You keep asking me to _understand_ . That I should try to see it from _your_ perspective. That you _have_ to do this.” He reached for an extra tunic and tugged it on, wincing as he slid his arm through. “But those are lies you’re telling yourself to justify what you’re doing.”

 

His blue eyes flash as he stood over her, his finger poking into his own chest. “See it from _my_ perspective, for once. You and I have been around and around this subject so many times, I can’t hear anything else you say. Back in Winterfell, I offered to let you go, to do the right thing and let you forge your own path, but you told me you wanted this and with me,” he hissed. She could see his anger and pain so clear it felt like he had physically hit her.

 

But the resigned sadness in his tone actually hurt more. “But you don’t. You want the idea of it, but not if it means you have to give up _your_ plan. I won’t be as nice about it this time. I’m furious and hurt...just ride ahead and go on your mission already. I’m tired of being taunted by the hope of your face,” he said as he turned and walked away from her.

 

*~*

 

One day away from the road to take them to King's Landing, and Gendry had become more sullen, more withdrawn. He no longer engaged with the other men, not even Hot Pie could get him to talk. The Hound of all people had tried to engage him in conversation but nothing worked.

 

Gendry has even stopped staying in their tent, but had grabbed an extra bedroll and slept under the stars. All of this made her feel wretched. The rest of camp had even grown somber in the wake of their lord’s dour mood. Rhys didn't sing songs. Harry didn’t ask him questions about the forge. Even Hot Pie had stopped talking about food. All the while, she could feel the Hound glaring at her. She finally had enough and wandered into the woods under the guise of tending to herself. But she slumped against a tree, brought her knees to her chest and hung her head.

 

Defeated. That’s what she felt. The snap of a branch near her and she looked up to see the Hound. He frowned at her. “Girl, if you don’t find some way to make that boy chipper again, everyone in that camp is going to hang themselves.”

 

“I haven’t done anything wrong.”

 

“Right. Take it from someone who has let revenge cloud their path for years, it changes you.”

 

“Oh, I suppose you were cheerful like Loras Tyrell before your face was burned.”

 

“Nothing’s changed with you. You still think you’re smarter than everybody else. Well, listen little wolf, revenge is a dead end game. There is no coming back. He seems to understand that better than you.”

 

She shook her head. “I should have killed her a year ago. I was going to and...I changed course.”

 

“Why?”

 

She took a deep breath. “Family. I found out about Jon and Winterfell...”

 

“ _Family_ ? That boy not count as family?” She hesitated for a minute and the Hound winced. “Young, in love, and fucking stupid. It’s not your place to kill Cersei. You _know_ it. You swore to your brother that you’d go to Storm's End. What’s changed?”

 

She stood and leaned back against the tree. “We’re so close. When I agreed, we were half the country away. But now, being so close, knowing I could end it...”

 

“Let’s say you end it. Then what?” He asked, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword and his eyes burning into hers. She always hated him for being able to read her so well. Read her in a different way than Gendry. Sandor Clegane saw the ugliness inside her and it was because the same ugliness existed inside him.

 

“I slip out of the castle and go to Storm's End.”

 

“What of the city? Without a leader, the city would collapse in on itself. The pampered Lords or thieves would seize all the food. The people, the truly poor people, begin starving. Riots. Death. Cannibalism. Kids are always the first to go. Smaller. Defenseless. What girls there are that don’t get eaten get raped and used. Civilization disappears...”

 

“You’re saying she’s a good queen?” She was aghast.

 

“Fuck no. But her position holds that sort of thing off. Your brother and the dragon queen have a plan and an army that can instill peace. What do you have besides a half-hatched idea and a sword? You go in and kill her, by the time they get here, there won’t be a city to rule. Nothing but animals that have to be put down. All actions have consequences. Consider yours,” he said before he walked away.

 

*~*

 

_She didn't understand what she was seeing. It looked to be a bull, but the great antlers coming from its head appeared to be more stag. This animal was surrounded by a pack of small wolves and ahead on the road was a storm. A horrific storm._

 

_Arya wanted to scream for them not to go into it. The swirling wind, the horrific lightning, the rain that hit the ground like arrows, she knew how dangerous it was. She watched helplessly as they continued on and the storm seemed to subside. She didn’t understand why she still felt dread. The sun was shining as the bull/stag took his rightful place at the top of the hill. The wolves all howled. It was a celebration._

 

_But she felt the change of the wind. Heard the faint melody of an ominous song drift over the wind._

 

_The bull was shocked by the first lightning bolt. Each wolf was struck down in front of her, panting and staring at her before they stopped breathing. The bull was still being pummeled with lightning, and through the storm she saw the lioness stalking her prey._

 

_Another lion with antlers surged forward and attacked the bull, getting him to the ground. The lioness, with her golden crown, leaned down and ripped out the heart of the bull. It prowled toward her and spit the heart at her feet._

 

Arya woke with a sweat, her body hot beneath the furs. She exited the tent and found the fire dying, and on the other side, Gendry. Her head hurt after that dream. Her bull, her stag, her love was in danger going to the Storm’s End. She knew that much. Cersei probably already had a plan in place on how to end them both.

 

Her heart ached. She truly had to decide between her hopes at revenge or Gendry. She lowered her head and felt actual tears of frustration roll down her cheeks. She could do it. She knew she could. She could kill Cersei and be done with it. Arya did feel worry that what the Hound said was true about the city. Jon and Dany wouldn’t be here for at least a month or more. The people would probably begin turning on one another and that...that would be her fault.

 

But as she looked at Gendry again, she felt fear. They had gone down such dangerous roads. They finally found themselves together, which she had been certain was impossible. He’d been there for her. Cared for her when she was injured, had her back during every fight, understood not wanting to stay in the keep where her family had been slaughtered. He knew her and loved her. She continued to hurt him because of fear. Arya didn’t think it was selfish to want revenge for her family.

 

She felt the wisps of her dream moving in around her. Was a trap being set? She finally pushed on Gendry's shoulder and he gripped his hammer immediately before his bleary eyes found hers in the dying firelight. “What?”

 

“I want to talk.”

 

“I don’t,” he said as he rolled to his side away from her.

 

“Do you think that ignoring me makes any of this better?” She hissed.

 

“Go away, Arya.”

 

“If you two are going to fucking fight, go somewhere else to do it,” came the Hound’s voice from his own tent.

 

Gendry threw off his blankets, pulled on his boots and tunic and started walking into the woods, his hammer in his hand. She noticed they were far enough away that the firelight was faint. “What? What else do you have to say? How many other ways are you going to make this fucking argument?”

 

Arya took a deep breath. “I want to kill her.”

 

She could barely make him out in the moonlight, but she could see his shoulders tight with anger. “Great. Go kill her then. Stop fucking tormenting me.”

 

“I want to, but I won’t.” His shoulders sagged and he hung his head. “I’m not going to King's Landing.”

 

He looked up at her, a frown still on his face. “How long until you change your mind or resent _me_ for that choice?”

 

She shook her head. “Neither of those.”

 

“Arya, we’ve been through this fight before. We’ve been through this solution before. You’ll never be happy if you're not the one that kills her. So, go kill her. I’ll go do what I have to do.”

 

He sounded so defeated. She was so bad at this. She felt all of these things that she didn’t know how to express. Anger made sense. Even lust made sense. But what she felt now was complete turmoil. She stepped closer to him and huffed out an angry breath and could hear the tears in her own voice. “I’m not going to King's Landing. You’re right. We made promises. _I_ made promises. It’s very hard for me to let go of the little girl that stood in front of Baelor’s statue where my father was beheaded. Hard for me to block out the screams of my sister when he was killed.” She stepped forward and rested her forehead on his shoulder. “My father was a good man. Honorable, good, loyal and they killed him, Gendry. They called him a traitor and they killed him,” she cried.

 

She felt so tired and didn’t realize they had sank to the ground until she felt both arms around her waist, holding her tight.

 

*~*

 

They came to the road that would take them South to Storm’s End and Arya looked over at the Hound. “You sure you don’t want to come with us? We could use your help,” Gendry asked.

 

Sandor shook his head and looked at Arya. “And you? You’re going?”

 

Arya nodded and gave him a small smile. “I have to protect the Lord of Storm’s End. Don’t die.”

 

“Same to you,” he turned to the other road.

 

Gendry’s voice called. “Remember, Clegane, when you get what you want, you’re welcome in Storm’s End.”

 

He only gave a wave before he kept on. Hot Pie moved forward and looked over at Arya. “I think I’m going to miss him.”

 

Everyone looked at him. “Really?”

 

Hot Pie nodded. “He was direct. You always knew where you stood with him.”

 

Arya smirked. “I suppose that’s true,” she said as she watched the Hound go into the King’s wood and turned her horse onto the road south. “We’ll need to really keep watch now that he’s not with us.”

 

Gendry nodded. “And expect the worst in Storm’s End.”

 

“Assume it’s a trap.”

 

Hot Pie heaved a deep breath. “How’s your shoulder?”

 

“Fine.”

 

They road until the sun began to set and moved into the woods. The camp was rather quiet without the Hound barking orders at the men to do the things they needed to do. Instead, they went about their tasks, as if it was second nature, now. She watched Gendry as he laughed at something Rhys said and took a deep breath. She was choosing her future, not her past. Her dream let her know that something bad was coming. But they would be prepared for it.

 

“You alright Arry?” Hot Pie asked as he sat beside Arya and began to arrange his pots and such over the fire. Peeta had caught rabbits and was in the midst of skinning them for Hot Pie to cook. A few of the other soldiers, ones she hadn’t quite gotten a grasp on their names, were setting up perimeter watches with the now in command Gendry.

 

She couldn’t kill Cersei. But she could protect the Lord of Storm’s End. She could avenge her father’s best friend by making sure his heir lived. She glanced at Hot Pie and gave him a small smile. “I’m good. You?”

 

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. How long until we get to Storm’s End?”

 

“Two weeks, I think.”

 

Hot Pie took the rabbits from Peeta and strung them over the fire, a pot beneath them to prevent direct heat and to allow the juices from the animals to drip into it. Hot Pie added mushrooms and some radishes he’d found growing in the wood. “I’m glad you and Gendry got sorted out.”

 

She looked over at him, a frown on her face. “I have to make sure he’s safe.”

 

Hot Pie chuckled and continued slicing mushrooms. “That’s funny.”

 

“Why is that funny?”

 

“The night we were attacked by them bandits. He jumped over fire to get to you. Seems he wants to make sure you’re safe, too.”

 

She looked at Gendry again. She stood and dusted off her leathers and as she approached the soldiers dispersed. Arya wanted the kind of solace that only Gendry could give, but there were too many prying eyes around for her tastes. She needed a cover. “I hate to say this but you stink.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. “I do?”

 

She nodded. “You smell of sweat and horse,” she said and motioned for him to follow her and grabbed her saddle bag and carried it with her. They snuck by the others and went towards the sounds of running water and found a stream that flowed from the Blackwater Rush that made it deep enough for them to get in. She unlaced her tunic. “Come on.”

 

He eyed her wearily. “If _I_ stink, why are you getting undressed?”

 

She pulled her boots off and shucked her leathers. She pulled the band from her hair and stood in front of him in nothing but her tunic. “I need you clean,” she said as she put the soap in his hands and his lips twitched as he remembered those being the words she’d said to him the first time they’d spent the night together.

****  
** **

He gave her a small smile and a nod. It wasn’t fixed, the crack she had put in their relationship, but when she leaned in and kissed him and she felt him kiss her back, she knew that it could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just a few notes.**  
> 
> Some people might say it's OOC for Arya to cry, but let's face it, she hasn't really had the chance to mourn the people she lost. I set that up with the previous Gendry chapter and that feeling only gets worse the closer she gets to the place where her life as she knew it fell apart. And just because couples fight, it doesn't mean that they stopped loving each other. In this case, it's a matter of Gendry loving Arya and wanting her by his side and Arya's love for her family. But I think the Hound put her on the right path.
> 
> Also, the names of three of the characters come from series I love and homage to some of my favorite characters. Harry, of course, is from Harry Potter, Peeta from Hunger Games, and Rhys is Rhysand from a Court of Thorns and Roses. 
> 
> Remember that fan fiction writers don't get paid to churn out content. We're people with feelings, lives, and real pain that we sometimes use writing to help us deal with, unfortunately. With that in mind, the only currency we get, aside from our own anxiety of whether the chapter was good enough, are comments. Even if you're unsure that your comment would mean anything, they always do! I'm not saying this to get my comments number jacked up, but I know several women who write incredible stories that deserve praise. So, remember, comment and let us know what you think. Good or bad. We prefer not bad. But if it's constructive, we can handle it.


	71. Jon XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Tyrion have a meeting of the minds. The King's reaction to being in the place where his brother died weighs heavier than he thought. Dragons are having issues. And Jon's able to release his inner blood rage when a major play is made by the Mad Queen on the throne in King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for your patience with me getting this chapter out. I’ve never gone so long without updating this story since I started posting it and and I feel a bit guilty about it. I’ve posted other things and chapters of other things, but there were parts of this one that really took some planning.
> 
> I’d like to thank the ever helpful sparkles59 for being just one of the best people I’ve ever met! She betaed this chapter for me and she’s the beez kneez. Go read EVERYTHING she writes.

 

Jon stood at the head of the table, examining the map once again as Tyrion went over the etiquette they would have to display when they would meet Edmure Tully at the Twins. All of the pomp seemed ridiculous and he was tired of hearing about it at that point. Davos added a few notes here and there from his experience from his time with Stannis. However, Jon was done retaining information and looked at Daenerys before he held up his hand and stopped Tyrion mid-sentence. “Tyrion, we can discuss this more tomorrow. We have a long way to travel on the road.” Tyrion glanced at Daenerys and Jon frowned. “Do not look to her to go over my head. We’re equals. I’m your King as she is your Queen.”

 

Davos gave a slight smile, but hid it quickly as Tyrion nodded. “Of course, Your Grace. My apologies.”

 

He heaved a deep sigh. “Unless there’s something imperative, we’re done until tomorrow. Is there anything to add?”

 

Tyrion shook his head. “There is not, your grace.”

 

Tyrion left from the tent after Davos and felt Daenerys smooth a hand over his back. “That was an interesting exchange,” she said as one of her maids came in and placed food on the table for them. 

 

Jon still stood staring over the map. “Seven Kingdoms and it still feels like you and I might be at odds amongst our council.”

 

She heaved a sigh and frowned. “It’s simply going to take time, Jon.”

 

“Davos already looks to you as Queen.”

 

She plucked a piece of cheese from the tray and smiled. “I think we can agree that Ser Davos and Tyrion are not the same sort of people. It’s good we have them both.”

 

“Will I ever be anything more to Tyrion than the  _ Bastard of Winterfell _ ?” He still felt the slight. Despite all he now knew about where he’d come from, who his parents were, what that meant for his future, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. Daenerys was one of the few people who never made him feel like he was less than an equal, even if at first she didn’t like that he was being called a King as it infringed on her own claim to being Queen. She embraced their relation, she embraced him as her husband, her King, and the heir to the Iron Throne which they would take together. They would rule together. But not everyone was like her. In fact, no one was. 

 

Tyrion knew him when he had no title, no real name, and was a shame to House Stark. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibilities that he would never see him as anything more.

 

Daenerys took his hand, her brow wrinkled in concern. “Jon...”

 

“I know who I am, Dany,” he whispered. “But sometimes if feels like I’m a child pretending to be something I’m not. I still don’t know why anyone would follow me. Why anyone would trust me?”

 

She was on her feet then and moved between him and the table, her hand cupping his cheek gently, her eyes shining at him in the firelight. “These doubts that plague you also plague me. I don’t know why people would put their trust in me. But we’re alike in that we don’t take that lightly. We know the responsibility we’ve been handed and we fight for those who gave it to us. We can’t do more than that.”

 

He put his hands on her hips and rested his brow against hers. “I have faith in you.”

 

She smiled. “And I have faith in you,  _ my King _ . I choose you. Everyday, I choose you.”

 

He stood up straighter, feeling some of the weight lift from his shoulders. “I feel like Tyrion’s plans for us at the Twins are a little too ostentatious.”

 

Daenerys nodded and tugged him to the stack of furs that made up their bed. She pushed him onto it, and then brought the platter of breads and cheeses over as well as a goblet of wine and handed it to him. “It is. I think that’s the point he wants to make.”

 

“What is the point  _ we _ want to make? Isn’t riding in there, crowns on our heads, the opposite of what we want to be? You want to break the wheel, and to me, that seems like the axle that turns the wheel.”

 

She was quiet for a moment and Jon wondered if she agreed with him. “I suppose there is something to be said for doing something less than that.” She smiled. “When we met, neither of us were wearing crowns.”

 

He smirked. “Your braids are your crown.”  Jon shook his head, eyes drifting and lost in memory. “ Gods, I wanted to throttle you for not listening.”

 

Daenerys leaned forward and placed a kiss on his neck. “And I wanted to burn you alive for not recognizing me as Queen. Yet, here we sit.”

 

“I think it’s a good thing we were both so stubborn. Up until the day on the beach, after you learned of Highgarden, I questioned what sort of Queen you would be. You did allow us to mine the dragonglass, but that didn’t mean you would make for a good ruler. I respected you more because you were so willing to fight for your people.”

 

She frowned and leaned her head against his shoulder. “It still remains true. What sort of Queen am I if I don’t fight for them?”

 

“You’ve fought for them, time and time again. We both have.”

 

“And we’ll establish a culture of listening to our people, allowing them to have a voice. Our council will not ignore them,” she said as she stood from the stack of furs. She removed the three headed dragon brooch and chain and placed it on her table. 

 

“Do our councilors know that?”

 

She looked over her shoulder at him. “If not, we’ll make sure we tell them,” she said as she moved back to him. “Help me with my boots,” she pleaded.

 

He pulled her down to sit beside him and unlaced first one and then the other. “Anything else you’d like me to help you remove, my wife?”

 

She chuckled. “After you’ve eaten, husband,” she said as she handed him a piece of cheese. “I can’t have you starving yourself because you’re constantly distracted by me.” His fingers traced over her calf hidden beneath leathers. He looked up at her as he reached her thigh. “Jon,” she warned. “I’m serious. You need to eat. You’ve barely had anything all day.”

 

Jon leaned back on the bed and took the piece of cheese she handed to him and popped a tiny bite of it into his mouth. “Have you been watching me?”

 

“I’m always watching you,” she took a piece of bread and handed it to him as well. “You’re very distracting,” she teased before she stood from the bed and began undoing the hooks and laces that held her dress together. When she was feeling particularly playful, she wouldn’t call for her maids to help her undress. Instead, she would do it in front of him, a private viewing all for him. He rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand as he watched her outer coat slide from her shoulders and she placed it on top of the trunk of her clothes. The silk dress beneath was a deep crimson, reminding him of blood.  _ Fire and Blood _ . Instead of sliding it over her arms, she pulled her hair over her shoulder and presented her back to him. He stared at the intricate laces that went all the way to the dip in her spine.   
  


He tugged at the tie and worked to loosen the fabric. “I don’t recall this particular piece,” he said as his hands moved from the laces, over her sides up to her breasts to gently squeeze and then over the swell of her stomach and back to her hips.

 

“I had to have some new pieces made since my belly is getting bigger,” she responded, looking at him over her shoulder as she tugged down the silk, baring skin. The other slid down her arm, exposing her bare back. His hands traced over the line of her spine. As she pushed the dress to the ground, she stepped out of it. 

 

However, he reached for it and tossed it to the trunk. Jon took her by the hips and turned her to face him as he worked at the laces of her leathers, loosening them enough to get his hands inside. She moved closer, her finger going to the tie of his hair and loosening it, freeing the the curls. He loved the way she would tug on his hair, guiding him where she wanted. Sometimes he gave her what she wanted, others he could deal with the pain to prolong her pleasure. He kissed over her swollen belly as his fingers found her cunt, already wet for him. He slid his middle finger inside her, moving slowly. “Gods, Jon,” she muttered, one of her hands coming up to her own breast and pinching the nipple as she bit her bottom lip. His other hand tugged down on her leathers, pushing them to her knees. Jon slid his lips lower and slipped his tongue into her, teasing over the hard nub of her clit.

 

She pushed his head away and stripped out of her leathers. He pulled her on top of him, her cunt over his mouth. “Oh, Gods,” she moaned when his tongue began licking at her slit, then surged forward into her, lapping up the honeyed taste of her. He growled against her skin as she leaned over and began undoing the laces of his trousers. He slid his hands along her arse and along the dip in her spine, causing her to shiver. He flicked his tongue over her clit a few times, but dropped back to her entrance, smiling at the frustrated groan she gave. However, when she finally got his laces undone and stroked over his erection, he gave a groan, which only caused her to press her cunt down to his mouth for more. He sucked her clit into his mouth and was surprised by how easily she came. He didn’t let up until she moved off of him. He watched her turn to face him even as he tore his boots and leathers off and tossed them to the floor. She straddled his hips and he thumped his head back against the stack of furs when he was seated inside her. She was hot and wet and he didn’t think he would last very long if she kept staring at him like that.

 

Her hands went to work on his doublet and he held her in undoing the toggles and clasps. He sat up and tossed it to the floor as he took her breast into his mouth. She adjusted her legs, now curled around his back as he tugged his heavy tunic over his head and went back to her nipple. She was still on him and lifted his head to look her in the eyes as she tightened the walls of her cunt around him in long, tight pulls. Jon was certain his heart had stopped beating. “Gods, you feel perfect inside me,” she said as she pressed her forehead to his. “Like you were made for me.”

 

He took a deep breath and rolled her to her back, but she pushed him further, dropping her left leg to the side and made him roll to his side facing her. She had groaned as he’d slipped from inside her, but Jon was quick to solve that problem. “I can’t be on my back. It makes me dizzy and sick to my stomach,” she muttered before she leaned in and kissed him. He tugged her hips against his, filling her completely as his tongue tasted her. She tasted a bit of cheese, possibly bread, but something that would always be associated with her. He broke the kiss to groan again as she started clamping around him. “Make me come, Jon,” she beckoned.

 

“As my queen demands,” he muttered as he started thrusting into her harder, hitching her leg that was over his hip higher. He moved his other hand between them and circled around her clit, not touching it, but growing in speed with every thrust of his hips. She was moaning his name over and over again, and if he went deaf tomorrow, he would never forget the sound she made when he finally pressed the pad of his finger against the tight bundle of nerves and she came. He let the rippling of her orgasm coax him into his own as he buried his face into her neck and thrust into her with every pulse of his cock.

 

He heard her hum in his ear as she stroked her fingers through his hair. She was then kissing along his cheek, through the scruff of his beard and finally to his lips. His hand moved over her bare thigh, her hip, and to her swollen belly. She grinned against his lips. “I’ve been waiting to do that all day?”

 

“Kiss me, you mean?” he questioned.

 

She chuckled. “I can kiss you whenever I please. No, only in the privacy of our tent can I fuck you.”

 

He trailed his fingers up along her spine, causing her to arch her back and shiver at the same time. “Had you told me that, I wouldn’t have allowed Tyrion in here in the first place.”

 

“Duty calls,” she said softly. “But, seeing as it is one I share with you, I suppose I can make exceptions and put my more carnal needs after those of the kingdom.”

 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re my wife, first. My  _ queen _ , second. Let me tend to the needs of my  _ wife _ whenever she needs me.”

 

Her hand came up to smooth along his jaw. “We’d never get anything accomplished or any traveling done. I find that there are times when I look at you and I get so wet I can hardly contain myself. I’m almost certain the others can smell the want on me.”

 

Jon shook his head. “Believe me, Dany, I’d make sure the entire horde of our eclectic armies stopped to make sure you were pleasured in the way you wanted. I give you my word,” he said as she giggled. “You laugh at your husband?”

 

“I laugh because I know you speak the truth,” she said as she licked his lips, then pulled him in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll never allow anyone to say that you let me go unfulfilled. In fact, my love, I’d have Drogon and Rhaegal eat them alive for such a  _ vicious _ lie.”

 

He smirked at her. “The fact that you would defend me by having your dragons devour someone is strangely appealing.”

 

“Is it?” she questioned with a raised eyebrow. “I sometimes worry that my lust for the blood of our enemies might turn you from me.”

 

Jon shook his head. “No. I understand it. I know you. I know your heart. You aren’t vicious unless you need to be, nor are you cruel. You, my  _ wife _ , my love, have a gentle heart.”

 

She bit her bottom lip and he worried at seeing tears in her eyes. “I’m afraid, Jon. I have nothing but faith in you and in us, but I worry that you’ll see something in me that disgusts you and you’ll turn from me. I worry about my dream...”

 

“It was a dream. Nothing more.”

 

Daenerys traced over the scar above his heart, her eyes fixated on it. “My dreams have a tendency of coming true.”

 

“Then I’ll pray for the vision of two babies to be the only truth in that. Let that be the part that we get.”

 

She furrowed her brow, but tucked her head beneath his chin. “I’d take one healthy child. I would just need one. Perhaps a little boy that looks like you to run around the Keep and terrorize our servants,” she chuckled. “Or a little girl to take you by the finger and show you her lovely embroidery.”

 

He closed his eyes, praying to the Gods of his adoptive father, Ned Stark, that she got her hope for one of those. “I told you once, Dany. You’re known for making impossible things happen. You thought that you couldn’t have children, and yet,” he said as he rubbed his hand over the generous swell of her stomach. He slid down in the bed and nuzzled the bump with his nose and trailed his lips over her skin. “The Dothraki sailed the poison water for you, dragons exist because of you, the dead are truly dead because of you.”

 

“I think you helped with that last one,” she said softly. “I seem to remember you suffering the bruises and broken bones to prove it...”

 

“My point is,” he said, interrupting her, “it’s not outside the realm of possibilities, where you’re concerned, that you could end up with everything you ever wanted.”

 

She was blinking rapidly and he realized that she was trying to keep the tears at bay as her sniffle betrayed her. “I should be angry with you for making me cry.”

 

He smiled. “But you’re not?”

 

Daenerys shook her head. “No. I love how you love me, Jon. We don’t have to always agree, in fact, it’s probably best we don’t. But I never doubt that you love me. I need that. I think you probably need it, too.”

 

He took her hand in his and placed a kiss on the inside of her wrist. “I do. I need it. And I get it from you. Now, as the man who loves you, you need rest as we have a long day of travel before us tomorrow.”

 

She snuggled into his side and tugged one of the heavy furs up around them, rubbing her nose against the pulse in his neck. “Sleep well, my love.”

 

“Depends on how much you snore,” he teased and she poked him in the side even as he chuckled, feeling content.

 

*~*

 

Jon had seen Daenerys out of their tent to tend to the dragons and then asked for Tyrion to be brought to the tent. As he entered, he could see the other man square his shoulders. He wondered if Tyrion was afraid of losing his position. 

 

“A private meeting, then?” Tyrion questioned, his tone not letting it through that he was afraid. Perhaps he wasn’t. Nor should he be. But he did need to understand that power was shared in this union and his word held as much weight as his wife’s.

 

“I felt it best,” he said as he gestured to the chair at the opposite end of the table. “We seem to be in an interesting position. I’m not the monarch you sided with and I’m probably not the one you would have chosen for her. However, I’m the King you have.”

 

Tyrion furrowed his brow and tilted his head, his expression more of interest. “Your grace, I have no issue with you being King. I think you, along with our Queen, will do more good for this realm than the people could ever hope. But...”

 

Jon shook his head and held up his hand.  _ Everything before the word ‘but’ was horseshit.  _  “When have you ever held back your opinions from me? When I first met you, you called me a bastard, to my face, could see that it offended me, and continued to call me that. We traveled to the wall together and you were the only person honest with me about what it was. I would appreciate it if you were honest with me now. What issue do you have with me?”

 

Tyrion rubbed a hand over his beard and sighed. “You still consider Ser Davos your Hand.”

 

Jon nodded. “I do.”

 

“Then why do you need me?”

 

“I see,” he said as he sighed. “If I take what Ser Davos says over you, it is not because I value your opinion less. Part of it is habit.”

 

“If that is habit for you, it is mine in seeking her opinion.” Tyrion heaved a sigh. “I truly don’t take issue with you at her side or her at yours. I thought that you would make good allies when I heard you had become King of the North. My opinion on that wavered only slightly when you started speaking of dead men and their army. I wanted to hit you when you announced in front of my duplicitous sister that you had bent the knee.” He strummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and Jon let a tiny hint of a smile pass by at his words. “Knowing all we know now, I think you were possibly the best that we could have ever hoped for. I mean that with all sincerity, Your Grace.”

 

Jon took a deep breath and stood. “I want to be what the kingdom needs. I want to be what she needs. I look to you and Davos to lead me in the right direction because I’ve never wanted to be a leader, a king, and never thought I would be someone’s husband. She chose me. I choose her. And as our Hands, you and Davos are the voices we need to guide us. Remember that. I’m not your enemy and you are not mine, even if I don’t like what you have to say.”

 

Tyrion nodded, a smile on his scared face. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

“Good. With that in mind, I don’t like your idea for how you want us to go into the Twins. I feel like it’s too ostentatious and it might be regarded poorly by the people there.”

 

He took a deep breath. “Let me ask you this, do you feel that way because you don’t like drawing attention to yourself due to having to fade into the background your entire life, or do you feel that way because it’s truly what is the best option?”

 

He hadn’t considered that. Did he dislike it because of the attention? Because he’d always looked down on the presentation of royalty? Jon tilted his head at Tyrion and shrugged. “I honestly can’t say. I know that the Twins is in the hands of my family’s family. Edmure Tully is the Lord of the keep and I’m not sure how he will feel about us going into it as if we’re peacocks on full display.”

 

“And what would you suggest? Banners up? Not even the full court? Just you, Daenerys, and possibly your advisors? What do you think will gain more interest from the South?”

 

Jon heaved a sigh. “The full court, I’m sure, as well as the crowns, display from the dragons...”

 

“Remember, you’re not in the North. You have to look at the entire country as your people. Other groups will expect different things. The closer you get to the capitol the more fanfare they’ll want. You want to be seen as King of the Seven Kingdoms, with that comes things you won’t like and that will include displays of perceived power. Like it or not, the full court, Dothraki riders, Northron Lords, your Hands, and the two of you on stallions with crowns firmly in place sends a message of power. The dragons flying overhead will give a bit more flair to it, as well, but it makes a point. People will hear of your gathering at the Twins, and you’ll want them to be awed by it, not bewildered why two people proclaiming themselves to be King and Queen looked little better than a Lord and Lady entering a keep.”

 

Jon nodded and considered this. “While I might agree with that, and we do want to appeal to the Lords and Ladies of the south, we also want the people, the common people, to look to us as people who will listen.”

 

“Which they will see when you hold an open court for them to come and address grievances. There, I think, you can have your more civil affair. You and the Queen seated side by side addressing your people and allowing them to address you. That’s certainly something that my sister would  _ never _ consider doing. She cares little for other people, as you well know, and you’ll prove that you’re not like her.”

 

Jon leaned over the table and propped his hands on it. “And you think that people will be receptive to both?”

 

Tyrion gave him a smile. “I think that people will be receptive to the  _ both of you _ . As I said, this world couldn’t hope for two better people to fight for them. You’ve already done so, and I know that you’ll continue to do that until you draw your final breath.”

 

Jon gave him a nod. “Very well. You’ve convinced me.”

 

He tilted his head and rubbed his beard. “I hate to ask for fear of reprimand, but do we need to discuss this with her grace as well?”

 

Jon smiled. “She already liked your idea. The only doubt she had was the one I raised. You already did the hard part.  _ I _ agree with you.”

 

They both chuckled. “Will wonders ever cease?”

 

*~*

 

The banners of House Tully were flying from the Twins as the Dothraki kos made their way through the gates of the Twins followed by the Northron lords, the main being Lord Glover with some of his men behind him. Next was Jon and Daenerys flanked by Tyrion and Ser Davos. Jon only ever allowed Daenerys to put the crown on his head, mainly because he used it as an excuse to get her close, but the other because he felt like maybe it was something he might deserve if she gave it to him. Jon’s doublet was black with the gorget with a wolf and the three headed dragon etched into it. He still wore his heavy Northron cloak, so much like the one that his uncle... _ father _ , Ned Stark had worn. Daenerys had a black fur stole around the neck of her black dress, etched in red thread. The three headed dragon and chain hung across her chest. 

 

As they came into the courtyard of the keep, everyone was kneeling for them. Jon climbed from his horse, as did Daenerys. They approached him together, their strides matching, neither touching. Tyrion thought it best to keep displays of affection to a minimum in case someone got the wrong idea that to hurt one they could hurt the other. 

 

“You stand in the presence of King Aegon Targaryen, Sixth of his name, King of the Seven Kingdoms, The White Wolf, The Undead, Hero of the Dawn, and Queen Daenerys Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt, the Breaker of Chains, the Mother of Dragons, and Hero of the Dawn,” Missandei announced. Jon felt a bit uncomfortable with the titles, but then, all of this made him uncomfortable.

 

“Arise, my Lord,” Daenerys said politely. Edmure and his household stood. 

 

“Welcome to the Twins. I’m Lord Edmure Tully, my wife, Lady Rosalin, and our son Brendyn. We welcome the  _ rightful _ King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms...” Edmure stopped speaking as he looked behind Jon, his face hardening. Both Jon and Daenerys turned to see that Jaime had entered the courtyard with a group of Dothraki as they had been riding to the otherside of the keep to set up tents out along the fields. Most of the Unsullied and Dothraki would set up camp there while Jon, Daenerys and their court would be housed inside the Twins, despite Jon’s objections to staying inside the keep where his brother and his men had been slaughtered.

 

Jon turned back to Lord Edmure and frown on his face. “My Lord, I noticed your expression. Is there a problem with Jaime Lannister being here?”

 

Edmure’s eyes never wavered from Jaime, though the Lannister never lowered his head. “He is the reason that the Freys were able to take back Moat Cailin. He threatened to catapult my son into the side of the keep if I did not forfeit it over to him. My brother, Brendyn, the Blackfish, died fighting to preserve it even after I had betrayed him.”

 

Jon cast a scowl at Jaime and gave him a nod telling him without words to follow the Dothraki through the keep. Daenerys was the one to speak. “I am sorry for your loss, my Lord. If it pleases you, we will ask him to reside outside the keep.”

 

“Thank you, your grace.”

 

Rosalin spoke then. “Please, come inside the keep. We have fires burning and you must be tired from your journey.”

 

Daenerys gave her a small smile as the people began moving about the courtyard. They were led inside to a great hall and Jon stopped to look around, taking a deep breath as he stopped just inside the door. Daenerys, Edmure and Rosalin had continued walking until the former had realized he wasn’t beside her. When she stopped the others did as well. She tilted her head at him but he turned his gaze to Edmure, feeling the emotion well within him. “I...presume this is the hall?”

 

Rosalin frowned and touched her husband’s arm, urging him to speak. It was then that Jon remembered that not only had he lost his nephew, but his sister had been slaughtered in this room. His kinsmen. Edmure stepped forward and lowered his head. “It is, your grace. But your sister avenged them all. In this very same room.”

 

Jon looked up at the ceiling and walked forward, joining them once more as Daenerys took the opportunity to break the protocol that Tyrion had insisted be put in place, and looped her hand over his forearm, her eyes soft and understanding. He was reminded for the millionth time why he loved her. He thought, had Robb lived, he would have liked Daenerys.

 

*~*

 

Jon and Daenerys were shown to their room before the feast. He had removed his crown and given it to the guards in charged with the safekeeping of both. He was seated in a chair in front of the fire, his head in his hands. He hadn’t considered, until he’d been in the room, the flood of emotions that would shake him over the death of his brother. Robb, like his other siblings, could only ever be considered his brother. They fought together, laughed, played, and learned. He hadn’t had time, when it happened, to truly take it all in. So much happened in a short span of time. It also caused an ache in his heart to think of him and so he avoided it as much as possible.

 

When faced with the place where he’d been murdered, he found that he nearly couldn’t breathe. His chest felt tight, his stomach roiled, and his heart actually hurt. He looked up when he felt her hands on his shoulders. He sat up and dropped his hands to his lap, unsure what to say or what she could say to make any of this easier to take. They were going to feast in that room later.. It was his duty and he would go, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat anything. He would simply be looking around the room wondering where it was Robb had fallen. 

 

“I have good news,” she said, softly. At the raise of his eyebrows, she continued, “I talked Tyrion out of a meeting before dinner.”

 

Jon hesitated for a moment then chuckled and she smiled at him. “My savior.” He slid his arms around her waist as he rested his forehead against her belly. Jon took a deep breath. “A year ago, the Freys still held this keep. They still gloated over what they did to Robb, his wife, and Lady Catelyn. And I know they’re all dead, but my blood boils and my bones ache with the desire to kill them,” he whispered.

 

“We’ll only stay two nights,” she whispered. “I’ve already discussed it with Tyrion and Davos. They agree.”

 

“Making decisions without me?” he teased, though his heart wasn’t in it.

 

She moved to sit across his lap as her fingers toyed with the loose curls at the nape of his neck. “In this case, yes. This place causes you to suffer,” she whispered. “I would give anything to ease your pain, Jon.”

 

He smoothed his hand over the swell of her stomach. “I’m keeping my sword. I’d like our men to do the same.”

 

She nodded. “I don’t think anyone would fault you for that.” Daenerys pressed her head against his and covered his hand with hers. “Come, lie down with me. Traveling has made me tired and I always sleep better with you beside me.”

 

Jon reached down and helped her remove her boots. He stopped momentarily and she lifted his chin with her fingers and his eyes slowly met hers, feeling the weight of losing his brother settling in his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him to her until he felt like he wasn’t going to fall apart at the seams.

 

*~*

 

Dinner seemed to be a subdued affair with Tyrion, Daenerys, and Davos keeping the conversation up with Edmure and his wife. Jon had almost refused to sit at the high table, knowing that’s where the murderous Walder Frey had sat as his family slaughtered the Starks. He looked out at their men, a mixture of Unsullied, Dothraki, and Northmen. He knew that somewhere on that floor had been the place where his brother had died. Where he had watched his pregnant wife die. Where his Lady mother had watched them both pass before her own life had been taken.

 

He had mixed feelings about Lady Stark. On the one hand, she likely wouldn’t have dumped water on him if he had been on fire. She hated him because of who he was and what he represented, the honorable Ned Stark’s one discretion. But she loved the rest of her children with a raw fierceness that could only be expected of a mother of wolves. He heard that she had fought off Bran’s would be murderer with her own bare hands gripping the blade. She loved her children, his siblings, with all that was in her. For that, he couldn’t completely hate her. And she had died in this hall with her throat slit to the bone. He felt like she didn’t deserve that. Even if he hated her, she didn’t deserve to die as she did.

 

How Edmure lived here, he didn’t know. In fact, the very thought turned his stomach and if there was ever a reason to come this way again, they would take the dragons so they needn’t stop. He didn’t know if he could do it again. He had pushed around his food, hadn’t taken a drink of his ale, and kept his head down most of the time. He really only looked up when he felt Daenerys touch his arm and he looked at her. The understanding in her eyes was so clear that the thought of pulling her into his lap once more and holding her until his heart relaxed occurred to him. Tyrion’s head would explode from the impropriety. It was nearly reason enough and he nearly smiled at the thought. Daenerys weaved her fingers with his as Rosalin spoke to Daenerys. “How far along are you, if you don’t mind my asking, Your Grace?”

 

Jon lifted his head and looked at Edmure’s wife, Rosalin. A Frey. He doubted she knew what would become of his family on her wedding night. What bride would allow the slaughter of her husband’s family? Daenerys squeezed his hand before she answered. “I don’t actually know. So much happened in such a short span of time...”

 

“When did you marry?” she asked as she took a sip of her wine and this time Jon squeezed her hand, realizing that it might be a slippery slope to answer. 

 

Daenerys gave him a small smile and turned back to Rosalin. “My life with Jon has been so fulfilling it’s hard to remember a time when I wasn’t married to him.”

 

Rosalin gave her a smile, the woman obviously understood that asking more questions would not be wise and so she took another bite of her food. Tyrion then took over the conversation, asking Edmure about the people that might come to see the King and Queen. Jon wanted to listen, but his mind was wandering again, wondering exactly when it had been that Daenerys conceived. Had it been on the ship? On the road to Winterfell? In Winterfell? Her comment had been to quiet Rosalin’s questions, but the truth was, it was hard to even fathom where he would be now without Daenerys. 

 

He wondered if she knew what she meant to him. They confessed their love for one another often enough, but he wondered if she knew that she saved his life in more ways than one. She physically came to get him beyond the wall, but after he was brought back to life he hadn’t found much to live for other than to get Winterfell back for their family and save the North from the dead. She had swooped in on her dragons and rescued his pathetic life and had even waited for him at Eastwatch after she saw him fall into the water beyond the Wall. 

 

He’d loved her before that. He knew it before he’d left Dragonstone. Watching her with Jorah had been a pain he didn’t remember ever feeling before and it was because of his affection for her. He remembered how fast his heart was racing as he’d regained consciousness on the ship back to Dragonstone, realizing she’d been sitting at his bedside. He remembered the hope that had flared within his soul when she had squeezed his hand back. She knew him, respected him, loved him. He still had no idea how that had happened. 

 

“You’ve been quiet,” Davos said softly.

 

Jon looked over at him, a frown on his face. “Caught up in the past, I’m afraid.”

 

Davos nodded and took a deep breath. “I went through that, a bit, on Dragonstone. Walked by the Princess Shireen’s room one too many times,” he said softly.

 

Jon lowered his head, then looked at the man who had become like another father to him. He’d lost his own children and seemed to have adopted others. “I’m sorry, my friend.”

 

“Don’t dwell on the past, Your Grace. Nothing but ghosts there, and not the large white beast you call friend.”

 

Jon gave him a slight half smile. “Where is Ghost?”

 

“I believe I last saw him wandering around the Dothraki camps. They feed him meat. I think they’re afraid he’ll take it from them if they don’t.”

 

“I want him kept out of the keep,” he whispered. 

 

“Your Grace?” Davos frowned, his voice questioning.

 

“Humor me,” he said softly and squeezed Daenerys’s hand once more. She turned her attention back to him and signaled for her to lean closer, which she did. “I think it’s time we retire.”

 

Her eyes met his and she whispered. “We must tend to the dragons first. I feel...uneasy about them. Something’s...happened, Jon.”

 

“Alright,” he said with a nod and then looked to Davos and signaled that he heard them both. 

 

Daenerys leaned over to Tyrion and told him they were leaving to go out of the keep and tend to the dragons. “My Lord,” Daenerys said to Edmure who turned his attention to her. “We’re going to tend to the dragons and then retire to our room.”

 

Edmure nodded. “Of course.” He and Rosalin stood and then Jon and Daenerys followed, causing everyone else in the room to do the same as they walked down from the dais and out the double doors. 

 

The Unsullied followed them outside to the courtyard and then out of the keep to the grounds beyond the Twins. The dragons were staying in the middle of the Dothraki camp, the Unsullied and the Northmen making their set up along the outside of the large berth given to the massive creatures.

 

Daenerys stopped walking as she was addressed by a few of the Dothraki who offered charred meat to their Khaleesi. She glanced up to Jon, a smile on her face as she took the stick from him and held it out to him. “They’re offering it to the both of us and, again, you haven’t really eaten it today.”

 

Jon gave a nod to the two large men and the woman standing between them. He took it from Daenerys and took a bite, finding it had a pleasant taste, different from any game he’d had before. Daenerys followed with a smaller bite and then she said something to them in Dothraki and they all smiled and the two men hit Jon upon the shoulders as the woman moved forward and said something to Daenerys. She nodded and placed her hands on Daenerys’ stomach and grinned. “Strong,” she said finally and called the two men back to her and they allowed them to pass.

 

She looped her arm through Jon’s and he glanced back at the people they’d just left and at Daenerys. “You’re going to have to teach me Dothraki.”

 

Daenerys actually laughed, but the look on his face must have told her to stop. She cleared her throat. “Jon, my love, while I encourage you to learn Dothraki and Valyrian, it might actually work to our advantage to teach them the common tongue as well.”

 

“Fine. But what did they say to you.”

 

She smiled, “Khaleesi and her Khal look skinny. Feed them Isi.”

 

Jon frowned. “Why does it matter if we look skinny?”

 

She led him to the clearing with the dragons, Drogon scrambling over to them first, tolerating Jon’s presence, clearly, but went to his mother who caressed and cooed over him in Valyrian. Rhaegal was slowly moving and stopped at Jon. He looked up into the eyes of his dragon and felt that Daenerys was correct. Being outside, beneath the stars, the crisp air, the fires burning around them from the Dothraki camp, with this massive dragon staring at him with something close to pain caused him great worry. “What’s the matter?” Jon muttered and Rhaegal rolled too his side and laid his head down. He didn’t see his tail coming to wrap around his waist and pull him towards his stomach. “What?” he whispered as he ran his hand over the dragon’s side, feeling something round and hard pushing against the skin.

 

“Daenerys!” he called and she appeared beside Jon in a flash, Drogon following and sitting down behind them like a great dog. He lost interest quickly and rolled to his side away from them. Jon took her hand and placed it against the skin. “What is that?”

 

She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s...never been there before.”

 

“Has...” Jon looked around as he pulled her close. “Has someone been tampering with our dragons?”

 

“When would they,” she asked? “Who would be fool enough to try? If it was Drogon, I would say it could have been possible when we went to the Eyrie. But Rhaegal was always with us.”

 

“Something is wrong,” he said finally.

 

Daenerys frowned and turned to Jon. “I want to sleep in our tent tonight. I want to be out here, with him, if he needs me,” she urged.

 

“My love, I will not stay in that keep by myself.” 

 

She put her hands to his face. “Are you mad? I would never let you. Besides, you are Rhaegal’s rider. I’m his mother. He needs us both.”

 

She called for one of the unsullied set to guard her. “Inform Lord Tyrion that the King and Queen are needed to sleep out in tents with the dragons. He’s to make our apologies and we’ll explain in the morning,” she said and the soldier marched off. She turned to the other man, “Please find Missandei and Dari and tell them I need to come to the center of the camp and into my tent.”

 

“Missandei could stay in her room.”

 

“I would rather her come with Dari as...I need confirmation of something.” She took a deep breath and Jon captured her by the arm. “Are you alright? Tell me truthfully?”

 

She nodded. “I simply need to speak to my midwife.”

 

“Gilly and Sam are here. Sam had a bit of training at the Citadel and Gilly helped her sisters who were giving birth. I can find them for you, as well.”

 

Daenerys smile and gave an order for their tent be set up, and immediately the larger tent was being constructed almost where they were standing. “Stay with me until Missandei comes. Or Dari,” she said with a deep breath. 

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“I just...I feel...movement. I haven’t felt it this strong before and...I need to relieve myself. I should have done that when I was in the castle.”

 

Jon looked at the still laying sideways Rhaegar, smoothing his hand over his belly, finding the protrusion gone. Jon looked at Daenerys as she was now speaking to the midwife in Dothraki and put her hand over her swollen belly. He watched for a few moments as several of the Dothraki were bringing in their items. Dari shooed them out for their Khaleesi as he continued to rub over the belly of the dragon. He went towards their tent and was stopped by Missandei. Jon handed her his heavy Northron cloak. “Put that somewhere. She needs you.”

 

“Don’t go far, your grace. We’ll need you, as well.”

 

He gave a smile and gave one last look at the dragon and then his tent, forming an idea of what could be plaguing Rhaegal. He needed someone smarter than he was, and that was Sam. He knew Sam and Gilly were set up with the Northmen along the West side of the camp. He headed in the direction of the camp and a voice stopped him. “Your Grace,” and Jon closed his eyes, not wanting to have an argument with Jaime Lannister at the moment. 

 

However, he still turned. “Ser Jaime.”

 

“Are you...are you looking for someone?”

 

“Actually, I am. My friend Sam Tarly.”

 

Jaime stood from his place around the fire and pointed two tents forward and to the left. “Gilly said she wanted that spot so Baby Sam could have a bit of room to run around.”

 

Jon nodded and started that way, but then turned to Jaime. “You threatened to catapult his son into the side of the keep?”

 

Jaime took a deep breath. “It was a threat.”

 

“Would you have done it?” Jon questioned.

 

“I don’t kill babies,” Jaime said, lowly.

 

“No. You only push little boys from tower windows,” he said coldly before he marched away to find Sam. He stopped when he heard the babbling of a baby and called out to his friend before he entered the tent. “Sam?”

 

Sam came out immediately, a bright smile on his face. “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t the King be staying in the keep?”

 

He rolled his eyes and then refocused on his friend. “I need to know what you know about dragons. Sicknesses and things like that.”

 

If his friend was shocked by this he didn’t show it. “I haven’t really read a lot about sicknesses in dragons. What exactly is it that you’re concerned about?”

 

“Can you follow me or were you...” he stopped suddenly, hearing an odd sound and Sam turned to look in the same direction as well, hearing the blaring of a horn when suddenly the row of tents behind Sam’s was crushed through by a large animal that was not a dragon. Jon withdrew his sword as did Sam. “Grab Gilly and Baby Sam!” he called, and soon the Wildling girl and her son were with them. 

 

_ Elephants _ , Jon realized with some horror as more elephants were charging through the same space. However, this elephant didn’t get far before it was clutched between the large claws of Drogon and taken into the air. To his horror, Daenerys was not seated upon him. He looked to Sam, Gilly and Baby Sam. “Run into the woods and stay there. I’ll send someone to get you.”

  
“Jon, I can help you...”

 

“Sam! I need you alive,” he said as he pushed him to go and watched as he took Gilly’s hand and they rushed towards the treeline. Jon could see some of the Dothraki women running as well as he made his way through the tents, trying to find his way back to the center when he heard someone call behind him. 

 

“Your Grace!” he turned to see Lord Glover drive his sword through a man creeping up behind him. Relief was the only thing that passed through him as they each began fighting with the men on the ground even as the elephants continued to charge through camp. “Where the fuck are they coming from?”

 

“Both sides!” Jon finally realized as a few other men joined them, keeping their backs to one another. And elephant was charging at them, and Jon barely closed his eyes, preparing for the impact when it was plucked from the air by Rhaegal who tossed it into the air and set it on fire before letting its large body fall to the ground some eight tents down. 

 

The two men which had joined them at their backs were killed by arrows. Jon felt fury coursing through his veins. His men were dying before they even got to King’s Landing. He fought harder, faster, swinging Longclaw into the belly of several men, finding relief and satisfaction to feel their blood spatter across his face. He’d kill every fucking one of them if given the opportunity. As they reached the center of the tents, the great clearing for the dragons, not only was Daenerys not inside their tent, it had fallen and was burning. His heart hammered in his chest, wondering if the worst had happened and she had been taken. He knew she wasn’t on Drogon as he could still see the great beast flying over head, plucking the elephants from the ground, lighting them on fire, and letting them fall. Rhaegal was doing the same. 

 

The dragons were the great equalizer. 

 

He was looking around the field, realizing with a bit of relief that the Dothraki were now on their horses and charging at the other group. A great gutteral noise sounded behind him and he turned to see Lord Glover fall to the ground, his throat slit. His dark eyes barely took in the man with the cloak who had killed his ally before Jon advanced on him with Longclaw and severed his head clean from his shoulders. 

 

He heard the Dothraki horn signal even as he was still fighting those that ran into the clearing.  _ They must all die _ pounded through Jon’s blood and mind. The cries of the men that fell from the swing of his sword was like a balm to his angry and fearful soul. The force of his sword as he plunged it into his enemies drove him to kill the next, and the next. Every one of these paid killers would die until he drew his last breath or someone confirmed to him what had happened to his Queen.

 

*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know if you’re still reading this story. I know it’s long as fuck and has a lot of different POVs, but I’m determined to get it to my endings which I already have written. I hope you all continue to enjoy. Also, need the motivation to get off my ass and start the next chapter which will be Jaime for reasons.


	72. Jaime XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime shares a drink with his brother and they fight the Golden Company as they attack!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGE thanks to sparkles59 for betaing this for me.
> 
> Shoutout to the lovely Tarts who have made this exile from the real world easier to take. Every one of you ladies is remarkable, strong women who deserve nothing but good things in your life. I hope that I bring each of you the joy that you bring me!
> 
> Also, it's jonerys week over on Tumblr. Pop over there and search jonerys week 2018 and find some of the wonderful offerings by writers and artists alike!

 

Jaime had watched Jon walk away and heaved a great sigh. He went back into his tent and opened the cask of wine that Tyrion had left him. He wasn’t sure how much time had actually passed before his brother appeared. Jaime thought he would be staying in the keep, not out amongst the undesirables.

 

“Please come in,” Jaime muttered into his goblet.

 

Tyrion drank down the contents of his own before filling it once more. “Would you like to know what I’ve spent the evening doing?”

 

“Not particularly,” he answered, but knew Tyrion would tell him anyway.

 

“I had to be the dazzling conversationalist that I am with a man from the Riverlands who has the personality of a wet sponge, and a King who was too busy dwelling in the past and his Queen who was too concerned over him to maintain conversation.”

 

“Jon Snow didn’t take too well to being in the room where his brother and kinsmen were slaughtered? How did you not foresee that?” Jaime mocked.

 

“I did. Which is why I stayed mostly sober through the dinner in order to maintain the conversation for the men gathered in the hall. Then, they leave dinner early, some nonsense about the dragons. While I was making small talk with Edmure Tully, the dimwit, I’m informed that the King and Queen have decided to stay out among their armies instead of in the keep, which means I have to stay out here, as well.”

 

“Why does it mean that?”

 

“The Hand of the Queen and King can’t very well sleep in a keep while they dwell in tents,” he mumbled. “Something about the dragons again. They’re dragons! What good are the King and Queen to help them?”

 

“I suppose you would feel differently about it if the problem was the dragons were eating people.”

 

“I wish that was the problem. That’s at least something they would be able to quell. Whatever is happening it’s only a _feeling_. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that they aren’t as used to maintaining political relationships as I am.”

 

“Which is why they have you,” Jaime reminded. “I wonder how it is they’ve allowed me to live.”

 

“Yes, threatening to catapult a man’s child into the side of the castle was a bit vicious. Sounds like something Cersei would do, but then not unlike you to threaten if you felt a pressing need.”

 

He heaved a sigh. “When I threatened it, his uncle, the Blackfish, was holding Riverrun and our sister was being put on trial by the High Septon. I didn’t want to leave the city in the first place and was willing to do whatever I had to do in order to get back to King’s Landing.”

 

“Would you have done it?” Tyrion asked, eyeing him and Jaime didn’t know if he felt insulted or understood that at the time, where Cersei was concerned, almost nothing would have been off limits. “I believe that’s a fair question, brother.”

 

Jaime shook his head. “No. But I feel like my reputation allowed him to think that I wouldn’t hesitate.” He took a deep breath. “Is it because I pushed Bran Stark out of a window that you asked?”

 

He shook his head. “Hadn’t occurred to me, actually. I asked because I know how much you cared for Cersei. Why do _you_ ask?” he questioned.

 

“The King said something about it.”

 

“You’ve seen him since we arrived? Other than when you were made to leave the keep?”

 

He nodded. “Not long before you entered my tent. He passed by me looking for Sam Tarly.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “I imagine it _was_ difficult for him to sit in that room and feast knowing that his brother had been betrayed and killed there.”

 

“I don’t know how he did it without losing the contents of his stomach.”

 

“He didn’t eat anything, that’s how.” Tyrion tilted his head as he looked at Jaime. “So, you’ve changed your mind and would find it difficult if I were to die?”

 

Jaime rolled his eyes. “Tyrion, that is not funny.”

  
“You threatened to cut me in half not long ago. And the sibling you were loyal to you have sworn to kill. Not unreasonable for me to ask.” His voice was soft and Jaime knew that Tyrion was asking for his acceptance. He craved it from everyone, but Jaime had never been one to hold back in giving it to him, until he’d killed their father that is.

 

He examined the contents of his goblet and frowned, wanting to ease his mind to his brother, the one person in his life who had always loved him unconditionally. That sort of loyalty and live shouldn’t be discarded because of one act, should it? “I didn't say anything to her about blowing up the Sept,” he confessed. He placed his goblet on the table and continued, “I killed the Mad King for the threat he posed to the city. That, and he asked me to kill Father and bring him his head. Yet, I never said a word to her about all the people that died that day. Not just the Tyrells. There were innocents that lived around the Sept. But I was willing to overlook everything about her flaws, Tyrion.”

 

Jaime watched the wine in his goblet shake as he heard a pounding on the ground. Tyrion looked at him in question. “The dragons?” He shook his head, grabbed his sword and stepped out of his tent as the sound grew louder.  

 

An elephant took out the row of tents in front of him.  “Oh fuck!” Jaime barely had time to parry a strike swung at him as a man leapt from a horse. He ducked the next, his own fear nearly choking him.

 

Tyrion drove a knife into the man’s hamstring and Jaime sliced off his head as he fell to his knees. Both dragons could be heard roaring over them as his brother looked up at him horrified.

 

“Didn’t you say Jon was heading to Samwell Tarly?” Tyrion asked and Jaime nodded. “The Queen, Jaime,” he said as he began running, the dagger still in his hands. They came upon the clearing where the dragons had rested only to find men in cloaks burning the main tent. Two Unsullied guards killed them and checked the burning tent for the queen only to shake their heads.

 

Jaime scanned the area and saw a flash of white hair being pulled by what looked to be Missandei behind her. They disappear among the labyrinth of tents. “This way,” Jaime called to Tyrion realizing the women were running towards the water, out from the trappings of the tents. Three men in cloaks were giving chase to the two women, and Jaime managed to strike one in the back of the legs as Tyrion ran behind him and slit his throat when he fell. He blocked the blow from the two swords as they threatened to strike down Daenerys. Tyrion, again, cut the hamstring of one, and slit a throat. Jaime battled with the other. The warrior tripped Jaime, sending him into a sprawl on his back. He raised his sword, but he kicked out his leg at the knee knee, breaking the bone, and Jaime drove his sword through his throat.

 

Jaime climbed to his feet and turned as a hand gripped his arm, the Queen’s angry face registering her fury, not fear. “Have either of you seen Jon?” she asked frantically.

 

“Before the attack. He was going to see Samwell Tarly,” Jaime answered, keeping an eye on the field and parried a strike from a would-be killer, sliced his arm off and cut his head clean from his body. Missandei had even put herself between the Queen and the fighting.

 

“Why are you not on Drogon?” Tyrion asked, his tone calm, but Jaime could hear the concern in his voice, the dagger in his hand was still dripping with blood. His brother had saved his life.

 

“They were in the air before I even knew what was happening,” she answered. “I need someone to find Jon!”

 

Jaime felt a bit of relief when he saw the Dothraki on their horses and the Unsullied had formed a line to go through the tents and to kill those that attacked. Several of the Dothraki women had joined them along the perimeter of the camp. Jaime saw soldiers run out of the keep and join the fighting. What truly amazed him was to see elephants being lifted from the ground by the dragons, each being set ablaze before they were able to hit the ground. The camp was now littered with the burning bodies of elephants. “Drogon won’t land,” Daenerys said angrily. “He’s too set on destruction of the elephants. And I think Rhaegal is raging harder because Jon’s probably fighting wherever he is.”

 

Jaime could tell by the look on his brother’s face that he didn’t know what was happening either. The screams of the Dothraki echoed through the air, different from the ones heard on the field at Blackwater  and he could see several of the women relax. “What’s that? What’s the screaming mean?” Jaime asked.

 

Daenerys spoke, “They’ve killed the leaders and the rest are being rounded up or killed. I need someone to find Jon. Now.”

 

When they were joined by some of the Dothraki, Jaime offered to go find him. She nodded and he jogged through the destroyed tents, finding some of the Dothraki and Unsullied warriors walking with the men in the cloaks in front of them as prisoners. A few Dothraki were picking up pieces of armor from the dead, and Jaime was reminded of the battle at Blackwater against Daenerys and her horde. He was glad to be on the other side of this one.

 

He stopped to think for a moment and wondered where to even begin looking for Jon. It occurred to him that if she was looking for him, he would damn well be looking for her. He made his way to the clearing for the dragons and found a dirty, bloody, and sweaty Jon Snow giving orders to the Northmen. There were over a dozen bodies at Jon Snow’s feet and he wondered if he’d killed all these men himself. “Find the Queen,” he barked.

 

“The Queen is safe,” Jaime called. Jon turned to look at him and he saw what relief physically looked like.

 

He turned back to the Northmen. “Help clean up the area. Someone go into the woods to the East and tell Samwell Tarly his King is asking for him and his wife. He was trained as a Maester and we might need his help,” he said. However, before they could leave the scene the body of Lord Glover was carted in front of him and Jaime took notice of Jon’s defeated expression. “He needs to be sent home to his family to do with as they choose. Have ten his bannermen take him to his grandchildren.” He said softly then turned to the men on the ground. “Get those out of here and see what was in our tent that can be salvaged.” Jon waited for the men to be dismissed and then turned to Jaime as they quickly made their way through the carnage. “Is she alright?”

 

“Furious,” Jaime responded. “But unharmed.”

 

There was a gathering of Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers with men from the Golden Company in front of them. Jon and Jaime made their way through and he watched the King and Queen war with one another about how to react. The roar of Rhaegal and Drogon as they settled nearby broke off their gaze.

 

Jon moved to stand beside her as people gathered to watch what was to unfold. Jaime could only see her whisper something to him, but the king’s focus never left that of the men who had attacked them. She kept her hands folded in front of her, her face a mask of calmness even though Jaime could see the fury beneath. Jon, for his part, looked formidable covered in mud and blood and his voice carried through the night as an ominous telling of what was to come. “The Golden Company is said to be made up of exiles and the sons of exiles. You were once headed by Maelys the Monstrous, the last of the Blackfyre Pretenders. I realize that Targaryen bastards are in short supply and none of you have allegiance to us now, but I will offer you a choice: bend the knee or die.”

 

Jaime frowned at the men, hoping some of them would be smart enough not to choose death. No one bent the knee and even he had to admit that it was stupid on their part. Tyrion spoke then, “You sell your sword, you have no loyalty to my sister other than her payment.”

 

One young man said, “ _Our word is as good as gold._ ”

 

Jon’s eyes narrowed and his hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, and Jaime thought, for a second, that he seemed happy with their response. It appeared that Jon Snow was every bit the Targaryen as his wife. “ _Good_ .” The two dragons came closer, their dark growls filling up the air around them and even Jaime took a step back, waiting for the blast of dragon fire he knew was coming. “Soldiers of the Golden Company, I, Aegon of House Targaryen, rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms and Hero of the Dawn do sentence you to death.” He took a breath, his dark eyes sweeping over the company of men, Drogon on the left and Rhaegal on the right before he said the words of their demise, “ _Dracarys_.”

 

The host of men before them were suddenly drenched in fire and Jaime looked away, the smell and sound of men burning to death was a call to watching his men burned at Blackwater Rush. Watching the Mad King kill people in the throne room with fire. The Dothraki moved away and back to restoring order to their camp along with the Unsullied. Jon turned to Daenerys then. “Where were you? Why were you not on Drogon? What happened?”

 

She turned her eyes to Jaime and he was reminded of her mother. Her mother that he had failed time after time to protect as he was told they could protect her from everyone but the person who always seemed to be hurting her, the Mad King. He’d fought for her daughter. Maybe the former Queen would look down on him now with some sort of favor. “Jaime and Tyrion protected Missandei and I.”

 

Jon’s dark eyes flickered to him and it looked to Jaime as if he was coming to some sort of conclusion in his own mind. He watched the other man resheath his sword and realized he was still holding his in his own hand. He slid Widow’s Wail into its scabbard and back at Jon. “It appears we all owe the Lannisters a debt for saving the Queen.”

 

“This is not the first battle I’ve been in that I’ve won,” Tyrion interjected. “Hero of Blackwater Bay and now Battle at the Twins. Seems I’m adding to my list of titles.”

 

Jaime chuckled and shook his head at Tyrion, but turned his attention back to Jon. However, Daenerys spoke next. “I suppose, next, you’ll tell everyone how you did all this yourself.”

 

“It does add for a more dramatic story, doesn’t it?” Tyrion quipped.

 

Jon stepped toward Jaime and looked around for a moment. “Thank you.”

 

Jaime only gave him a nod, feeling as if he said anything else, it would shatter whatever peace had been brokered between him and Jon Snow. Instead, he watched as Jon turned to look at Davos who had joined them along with Edmure Tully.

 

The King turned to those still gathered around them even as he took the Queen’s hand in his, and began handing out orders, “Get the field cleaned up and make sure that everyone has somewhere to sleep tonight. I’m going to tend to the queen. Missandei and Dari, please come with us. Lord Tully, please see to it that Samwell Tarly finds his way to our rooms when he’s found.”

 

Edmure gave a nod. Jaime looked at Tyrion who gave one of the interpreters for the Dothraki the instructions and she then began to pass them on to the riders.

 

*~*

 

Jaime found his tent still miraculously standing. He was about to enter when he was stopped by his brother. “Sneaking away after your heroics?”

 

He gave him a small smile. “I seem to remember you with a dagger in your hands slashing throats and hamstrings.”

 

“Oh yes, that was me, wasn’t it?” Tyrion looked around at the chaotic field as tents were once more being raised and the dead taken away. “You saved her life. Might have been easier for you to let her die.”

 

He looked around and furrowed his brow. “Yes, because that’s how I’ve lived my life the last few years. Taking the easy way.”

 

Tyrion didn’t look phased in the least by his comment. “Despite yourself, you do have a good heart, brother.”

 

“And how do you really know that? How are you so certain this wasn’t all a plot?”

 

He shrugged. “You’ve never been the duplicitous one. That was always our sister’s forte.”

 

Jaime held open the flap of his tent and invited Tyrion inside. He ran a hand through his hair and picked up his goblet from the ground. The cask of wine was still on the table, however and he poured himself and Tyrion a healthy portion. “Do you know what I thought when we were standing there protecting her? When I glanced back?” Tyrion took a sip of his wine and shook his head. “I thought of her mother.”

 

Tyrion was silent for a moment, a frown on his face. Whatever clever words Jaime expected, Tyrion didn’t deliver. “You weren’t in a position to protect her the way you wanted.”

 

Jaime shrugged. “I ended up killing the King anyway.”

 

“And they would have killed you as a traitor to the throne.”

 

“How many people died because I didn’t act sooner, Tyrion?”

 

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “So, this is what we’re going to do after the glories of winning a battle? Bemoan the past that we can’t change? It appears Tormund was correct. You’re a horrible drinking partner.”

 

Jaime shook his head and downed the contents of his goblet. “Ignore me.”

 

He looked up at Tyrion’s sigh. “I can’t ignore you while you still have that look upon your face.” Jaime removed his sword from the scabbard at his side and placed it on the table, traces of blood still along the blade. “I hear you shouldn’t put away a sword with blood still on it.”

 

Jaime leaned against the table. “You shouldn’t. Care to clean it for me?”

 

Tyrion rolled his eyes. “You might have been able to trick me into that when we were children. No longer. I am hand of the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and hero for Battle at the Twins, I do like the sound of that. My sword cleaning days are over.”

 

He chuckled. “Worth a shot.”

 

“You missed,” Tyrion said with a wry smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, Jaime and Tyrion convos are one of my favorite things to write.


	73. Daenerys XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of battle, conversations about dragons, a ritual is performed, and revelations about the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, a huge thanks to sparkles59 for doing the beta on this. 
> 
> Second, to the lovely Tarts: You're all amazing women. No matter what happens, I know I can log on and talk to you and instantly start to feel better! 
> 
> Third, and this is sort of hard for me to explain, but bear with me. I've had this username since I was fourteen years old. Not to have a big head, but people in the Dramione community knew me by this name and people in the GoT universe know me by this name. It's personal to me. Part of my identity at this point. So, when I say that I feel violated by the fact that someone used my name(not my account) to try to get people to believe that I read their clearly misogynistic fic and declare someone as the "king of smut" it makes me feel gross. In the words of Iliza Schislinger "Like being shot at with a dick gun". Some people suspect that it was done in order to go after feminists writers. I feel it was just to say "hey, ashleyfanfic liked my fic, see, she posted". Whatever the reason, I've reported it to AO3 as a violation of terms and conditions, I shared the post on tumblr. I even made a post on said fic for the thread to be deleted. 
> 
> And if you're reading this, my one hope is that no one else clicks on it. Let it fade into obscurity. How dare you make me feel uncomfortable in the fandom I love! How dare you try to use my name to further your goals! How dare you believe that it is all fine to do so! I won't mention you again after this. Consider this my Sansa watching Ramsay getting eaten by dogs. _Your words will disappear._

 

  **DAENERYS**

 

The Dothraki, Unsullied, and the Northmen worked together to right the tents. Someone had brought a fresh linen for Jon to wipe the blood and mud from his face, but he needed a bath almost as bad as Ghost. His maw was covered in blood, his white fur covered up to his belly in mud and blood. He had apparently jumped into the fighting.

 

Jon hadn’t allowed her to leave his side until they were safely inside the castle, Missandei and Dari tucked into their room with them.

 

Daenerys stayed at the window, watching as the turmoil caused by the Golden Company was cleaned up. She could see the dragons from their room, both munching on the burnt elephant. The smell was horrible and made her stomach roll. She hoped that much of the carnage was gone by morning. Ghost was curled up in front of the fire, oblivious to how fearsome he looked, much like his companion.

 

Jon then turned his attention to Daenerys as a tub was brought into their room and it was being filled with hot water. “Now, I want someone to tell me what happened in the tent that kept you from climbing onto Drogon before he was in the air?”

 

Daenerys turned to her husband as he still sat in his blood and mud-stained clothes. She gave him a smile. “Nothing bad,” she said as she looked down at where he sat. They were all silent as more water was brought in. When the maid left, Daenerys resumed speaking. “I asked Dari if she could tell if there was one or two. Given my dream and our conversations about it, I was curious if she could tell.”

 

He looked to the Dothraki midwife, his dark eyes wide and curious. “And can you?”

 

She shook her head. “Not yet. But if there are two, we should be able to tell soon. Before you perform _hrazef zhor, Khaleesi._ ”

 

Daenerys saw the disappointment on his face but nodded. She decided to not bring up the ritual of eating the horse heart to her husband just yet. She knew she needed to do it soon, but how to approach the topic with her council and her husband would be difficult. She could picture some level of disgust, but she would make them see reason. After all, she had done it before.

 

“I suppose I can wait to find out,” he said with a slight smile.

 

“And I was helping the queen right herself when we heard the commotion. By the time we got outside, the dragons were in the air. She kept calling for Drogon but...” Missandei trailed off, obviously remembering both of their panic when she had proclaimed that Drogon wouldn’t come to her.

 

“He was too incensed by then. They just started lifting the elephants from the ground and neither of them would come back.” Daenerys knew her sons were angry that someone _dared_ attack them as they had. To bring large animals into their camp, jeopardize their mother and even Rhaegal’s rider, Jon, had left the dragons in a rage that didn’t seem to quench until every elephant was dead. “Missandei and I started running toward the water, and that’s where Jaime and Tyrion found us.”

 

“And he saved you,” Jon said as he looked down at his hands and Daenerys wondered at the look on his face. Was it concern? Anger? Fear? Even shame?

 

Daenerys nodded, though, hoping to put away his troubling feelings. “He fought bravely. They both did.”

 

Jon looked at Missandei and Dari and nodded for them to leave. “Thank you.” More water was brought in and filled into the tub, the maids promising only a few more trips and their task would be complete.

 

“I got back to our tent and found it on fire and you were gone...I thought they had you...” At the sad look on his face, she went to reach for him but he stopped her. “I’ll not have you ruin your dress,” he said with a slight smile. “I like this one. Looks much easier to remove than the others.”

 

She chuckled and cupped his face. “When they’re done with the water, I’ll show you how easy it is.”

 

He winked at her as a knock sounded at the door. The person was bid to enter and Sam looked uneasy as he stood in the doorway. “Lord Edmure said you wanted to see me?”

 

Jon nodded, gesturing for him to come into the room and he closed the door behind him. She noted that Sam still stayed near the door and she wondered if he still held resentment toward her. She would hate for Jon’s friend, one he so clearly cherished, to still hate her for her actions almost a year ago. “Yes. How are Gilly and Little Sam?”

 

“Fine.” He gave a bit of a smile and glanced at Daenerys. “One of the Dothraki was helping to restore our tent. He made me a bit nervous about how he ruffled Little Sam, but he’s a resilient kid.”

 

Daenerys smiled slightly, hoping to set his mind at ease. “The Dothraki treat everyone the same.”

 

“Except their Khaleesi,” Jon reminded her with a fond smile. Jon gave her a look that caused her to squirm where she was now sitting at the vanity. He then turned his attention back to Sam and looked up at his friend. “What do you know about Dragons and eggs?”

 

She turned her head abruptly to Jon, the thought had never occurred to her. “Do you think that’s what’s wrong with Rhaegal?”

 

Jon nodded. “Yes. This is about how that lump felt. It’s the only thing that seems to make sense...”

 

“The protrusion on his side,” she said as she sat back, taking that in. The last dragon eggs in existence had been the ones from which her sons had emerged.

 

“Well, what I know is that all dragons are assumed to be male until they...aren’t. Meaning...”

 

“Until there needs to be a female to continue the line,” Daenerys finished. Sam nodded and she furrowed her brow. “How long does it take for them to lay eggs?”

 

“Well, that I don’t know. A lot of the things we know about dragons are only how big they grew and how many came from a clutch. Not how long the process took or even how to hatch them.”

 

Jon looked over at Daenerys. “I would rather not hatch them the way you did last time.”

 

“That’s not funny,” she warned.

 

“I didn’t mean it as a joke.”

 

Sam interjected. “Excuse me, but how did you hatch them last time?”

 

She took a deep breath and looked at her hands. “I put them in my husband’s funeral pyre.”

 

“Yes, let’s avoid that,” Sam said with a weariness in his tone.

 

“How is this possible? I thought that Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion would be the last of the dragons.”

 

Sam tilted his head. “Life...finds a way, Your Grace. I believe you’re a prime example of that being true.”

 

She could see a smile on Jon’s face and the loving look in his eyes warmed her heart. “I suppose I am,” she whispered. “Thank you, Sam. Tomorrow, I would like to bring you to Rhaegal to see if you think that’s what it was.”

 

He gave a nod. “I look forward to the terrifying experience,” he said with a smile and Jon chuckled.

 

Jon stood and moved to the door. “Say goodnight to Gilly and Little Sam.”

 

“I will. Sleep well,” he said before he left the room.

 

Daenerys moved back to the window and wondered when Rhaegal had been impregnated. How would people have missed that? Two dragons...she would need to ask her men. Surely, being outside with her children they would have noticed something. Why would no one have told her? And Drogon...that explained a lot about her own dragon and his temperamental possessiveness of her, lately. She heard the heavy leather of Jon’s hauberk hit the ground followed by his jerkin.

 

She put her back to the window and watched him strip down to not but his boots and leathers, a smile on her face. “What?” he asked as he shucked off his boots. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

“When you came walking through those men towards me tonight, your sword still dripping with blood, covered in mud and blood yourself, it struck me how you might have been the embodiment of our house. And I have to admit that a large part of me never wanted you more than when you stood there, looking the warrior you are and said the word _Dracarys_.”

 

He raised both eyebrows. “I think we should be concerned that it arouses you as it does.”

 

She chuckled. “We’re not that different, you and I. You like it when I go into the part of Dragon Queen.”

 

He tilted his head as he stood and stripped out of his leathers and small clothes and removed the tie holding his hair. However, his curls didn’t fall into his eyes as they tended to do when he finally released them. It’s when she realized how truly caked in blood and grime he was. She walked to the door and locked it as he climbed into the bath. She had intended to join him, but seeing the state his hair was in, she didn’t want anywhere near the water. She did remove her dress, revealing her lighter shift beneath and he smiled as he watched her. “That easy? One string and it’s gone?”

 

She shrugged and moved the chair she’d been sitting in beside the tub and noticed a bruise forming on his elbow. She poked at it and he hissed. “That hurt?”

 

“No, it felt good,” he said sarcastically as he snatched his arm away from her and gave her a wary smile. He sank beneath the water and could see him running his fingers through his hair. She moved to sit around the back of the tub and when he came up, she took the soap and pulled him to lean back as she worked up a lather and began moving her fingers through his curls. “I was terrified when I saw Drogon in the air and you weren’t on him. Felt like I might have just lost everything...”

 

She tilted his head back and he cast a look over his shoulder that caused her heart to ache. “I’m not easy to kill,” she whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead. She continued to work the soap into his hair and patted his shoulder to tell him to go back beneath the water. When he sat up from beneath the water again, she rung out his hair, making sure that it no longer dripped brown or red. Instead, it was clear and she moved back to sit beside the tub once more and handed him the soap as he began washing.

 

“I had hoped you would join me in this very small tub where you would be forced to sit in my lap.”

 

She grinned. “I had every intention of doing so until I saw how bloody and muddy you were. I’m not getting in that water. Perhaps when you’re done, you can try to bathe Ghost.” The wolf lifted his head from the floor and she smiled. “Yes, you,” she directed at him, but he lowered his head ignoring the comment.

 

Jon smirked. “Have you ever tried to bathe a direwolf?”

 

She shook her head. “No. But I have bathed his familiar,” she said as she leaned in and kissed Jon.

 

Jon eyed her through thick lashes, a playful smirk on his lips. “You washed my hair.”

 

“We’ve had more than one experience in a bath, Jon.” She stood and moved out of his reach as he lunged at her. She stood beside the bed and pulled her sheath over her head and moved to lay on her side as she watched her lover scratching at the mud caked in his ear. When he turned his eyes to her, he stopped to realize she was naked and watching him. “The sooner you get done the sooner we can work off some of this pent up energy I have. I’m always anxious for a fuck after a fight.”

 

He stood then and she tossed a dry flannel at him. He climbed from the bath, did a cursory swipe over his body and joined her quickly.

 

Rest came sometime later in the night, both sated and safe within one another’s arms.

 

*~*

 

Daenerys was exhausted as she stood with Sam and Jon was they watched a lazing Rhaegal’s stomach shift. She saw the lump as soon as Jon did and he reached his hand out to snatch Sam’s and bring it closer. Sam looked uncomfortable but pushed in a bit, getting a better feel for it before it disappeared again.

 

Jon and Daenerys stared at him expectantly. “Well?” Jon spoke first.

 

Sam sighed. “I don’t know for sure, but the size and even the shape...I think it is an egg.”

 

Daenerys looked at Rhaegal’s face and patted the great dragon. “Is that what’s troubling you? An egg?” She whispered.

 

Jon thanked Sam and then turned back to Daenerys. He was about to say something to her when they were approached by two of her kols and one of the Dothraki wives.

 

_Khaleesi, riders have a place for hrazef zhor. Tonight is new moon._

 

She looked at Jon who had no idea what was being said and wondered how he would react.

 

_Then it will be done tonight._

 

That seemed to placate them all and Daenerys turned to Jon who was staring at her expectantly.

 

“Get Tyrion, Varys, Missandei, and Davos. We all need to talk.”

 

*~*

 

“You’re not doing that!” Jon insisted.

 

“I’ve done it before. Besides, it’s a custom among the Dothraki. It proves my strength.”

 

Tyrion frowned. “Can’t you prove your strength some other way?”

 

Daenerys tilted her head and scowled. “This is a custom. We still need their loyalty.” She turned to Missandei and sighed. “Will you search my trunk for my leathers?”

 

Davos tilted his head and asked, “Your grace, are you certain no harm will come to you or the child?”

 

“Very. I felt stronger if that makes sense, and their loyalty to me grew.” She cast a look at her doubtful husband. “It’s good for them to still see me as their Khaleesi.”

 

“You aren’t doing this,” Jon said emphatically.

 

Everyone looked away from her but Jon as they could see her temper flare. Missandei reentered the tent and stopped, obviously sensing the struggle of wills between the king and queen. She was holding her leathers.  Daenerys took them from her and glared at her husband as she walked up to him, her eyes boring into his with defiance. “Watch me!”

 

*~*

 

The Dothraki had set up a burnt out wagon in the center of the field, chanting for their Khaleesi. She practically stomped into the center and watched in amusement as several riders led Jon over to a chair they had reserved for him. She stepped up into the burnt out wagon and watched as Tyrion, Missandei, Davos, and even Jaime stood amongst her riders. Others were called by the chanting, interested to know what was happening.

 

A fur was placed at her feet and she knelt on it, her eyes locking with Jon’s. He’d never once told her she couldn’t do something. She resented the implication that she was under his heel.

 

She nodded to one of the women who handed her the fresh heart. It was still warm in her fingers as the blood dripped down her arms. She looked down at it for a moment, feeling the weight of it in her hands as the Dothraki mothers began to chant for her. Her eyes met Jon’s in defiance and she took the first bite, pulling at the stringy meat.

 

The blood dripped down her chin, onto the front of her clothes. It dropped from her elbows, and yet, every bite she stared at Jon, showing him the lengths she would go to for her people as it seemed he might have forgotten. Barbaric? Perhaps it was a barbaric custom, but the Dothraki were her people as much as any other. She owed them her allegiance as they owed her.

 

She watched Jon, prepared to fight the disgust she was certain she would see in his eyes with defiance and superiority. He didn’t turn his eyes away but held her gaze. She realized he was leaning forward in his seat, watching her in fascination, not disgust. She was halfway through the heart, feeling the organ grow smaller and smaller with every bite she took, filling her with confidence. She would do this. She would finish this and keep it down. She was their Khaleesi. She won them with her nimble mind and her internal strength. She would keep them by the same means.

 

She focused on her husband, the dark look in his eyes, and with astonishment, she realized that despite his earlier protestations about performing this rite, he was aroused by it. _More Targaryen than he would like to admit. Fire and blood._ She could hear the chanting, was aware of the great host of people watching, Dothraki forming the majority while the Unsullied Stood guard. The audience was large, and she meant to make them know her strength.

 

Daenerys fought off nausea that threatened to take this moment from her. Listening to the crowd, focusing on her husband and his onyx eyes and how he was leaning into this ritual literally and figuratively. She wouldn’t think about the disgusting taste or the horrid smell. Her entire focus was on Jon.

 

She had one more bite, the squish of the meat between her teeth becoming almost too much to bear. But the determination soaring through her veins to prove to the men in her life that she wouldn’t be told what to do pushed her to take the final bite. She chewed what seemed like an eternity, fighting the need to vomit everything she’d just eaten. She swallowed the last of it, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath through her nose. When she was certain it was going to stay down, she stood, listening to the women around her grow silent.

 

She saw movement from one of the women to her left, her stomach swollen with her own child. She stepped forward and held her hand out and nodded to Daenerys to come closer. She took slow steps toward her and felt the warmth of the other woman’s hand through her clothes. She closed her eyes then looked up at Daenerys with a smile.

 

_Khaleesi is strong. Babies are strong. Khaleesis to ride for Khalasar._

 

Daenerys put her hand over the other woman’s. _Two? Girls?_

 

She nodded. _They’re strong. It is known._

 

_It is known_ , the others repeated the words.

 

She looked around at the group and her eyes found Jon’s as he was standing, confusion on his face as he didn’t understand the words.

 

Missandei leaned over and whispered to him and a slight smile formed on his mouth. As happy as she felt to hear this news, the bubble of fear at her dream nearly choked her. Two babies melting in her arms. Jon’s hatred for her. Both were still possibilities. She touched her own stomach as Jon walked over to her to extend his hand to help her down. She took it and she watched with amusement as her riders clapped him on the back in congratulations.

 

She didn’t wipe the blood from her face or arms. She wore it as armor as she walked with her husband to their tent beside Rhaegal and Drogon. She cast a look at her sons as they lazed in the sun. A chunk of elephant lay near them, but most of it was bones. At least someone seemed happy for all the giant dead animals laying around.

 

As they entered their tent, she immediately went to the basin with water and rinsed her mouth. A piece of bread was offered to her silently and she gave an appreciative glance at her husband. She ate it down, hoping it would settle her rolling stomach.

 

She chased it with a glass of wine. She stopped at feeling Jon’s fingers untying the laces of her top. “Let me help you as you helped me last night,” he whispered.

 

Daenerys allowed him to remove her top. He put a hand on her hip and turned her to face him and she was stirred to see the love shining through his eyes. All the ugliness she dared him to shun, he took in. He reached into the bowl with a clean rag and began wiping the blood from her skin. The movements were soft, sensual, and she waited until he cleaned her hands before she captured his face and leaned forward to kiss his chin, his cheeks, his nose. He dropped the rag into the bowl then helped her remove her boots and her leathers. He stayed on his knees in front of her, his hands holding her hips as he rubbed his lips against her belly, his beard scratching her skin softly.

 

“Girls,” he whispered. “Two girls.”

 

She lowered her head and ran her fingers through the loose curls at his neck. “Are you disappointed?”

 

He looked up at her, his expression soft and loving. So different from when she was standing in the center of her people with his expression dark and consuming. “Disappointed? Why would you think that?”

 

“Because...they’re not sons.”

 

He took her hands in his and stood, sliding his fingers along her forearms to grip her elbows. He pressed his forehead against hers and she closed her eyes to inhale his scent. “They’re ours. Our daughters. I love them already and they aren’t here yet,” he whispered.

 

She took his face in her hands and swiped her thumb over the crease in his brow. “I love you. I love you so much that it terrifies me,” she whispered. “I’ve been shown time and time again that life doesn’t have happy outcomes for me. I’m always expecting the worst because...”

 

“Neither of us had it easy,” he interrupted. His voice was soft against her ear, but the deep timbre eased her mind and heart, “We both suffered. But we’re here, together. I’ll never part with you willingly. I’ll fight until my dying breath for you.” He pulled back and captured her face in his hands. “You brought me peace when I never thought I could feel anything like it. You were everything I wanted but was never foolish enough to hope for because how could you possibly be real?”

 

She choked on a sob and caught his wrists in her hands. “If you don’t kiss me I’ll make _you_ eat a horse heart.”

 

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I prefer venison to horse,” he said as he leaned forward and kissed her, holding her tightly to him.  

 

*~*

 

Daenerys waited for Tyrion to arrive back with Jaime. She hadn’t revealed her reason for wanting to see him but had told her Hand that once he had been brought to her they should be left alone. Jon had thanked Jaime, but she hadn’t. She smoothed a hand over her stomach. Two girls. It caused her mind to drift to her mother. She knew Jaime used to guard her, and aside from Varys, may be the only person who could truly tell her about the woman she ached inside to know.

 

The flap to the tent opened and Jaime entered, his sword at his side. He glanced back at his brother before he disappeared. Daenerys gave him a small smile. “You must wonder why I wanted to see you.”

 

“To be perfectly honest, Your Grace, the last time I was called to a private audience I was afraid I would lose my head due to my...relationship with Sansa. But that was your husband, not you.”

 

Daenerys shook her head and gestured to the chair across from her. “I have no intention of taking your head and neither does the king. I believe, after the other night, he feels gratitude towards you. As do I.”

 

He took a deep breath. “I’m not sure you should really thank me. Tyrion was the one who...”

 

She nodded. “I know what happened. I also know that I would be dead if you both hadn’t come after Missandei and me.” She took a deep breath and frowned. “I suppose you heard that I’m having girls.”

 

Jaime nodded slowly. “How you came to know this is a bit suspect.”

 

She raised a brow and tilted her head at him in askance. “What do you mean?”

 

“The Dothraki kept everyone away from what happened, but they said you ate a horse heart and then someone declared that you were having twin girls.”

 

She smirked just a bit. “You doubt this?”

 

He was silent for a moment and leaned back in his chair. “I’m starting to believe that I shouldn’t from your tone.” She gave him a small smile. “So, it’s true?”

 

Daenerys stood and fetched her bloodied top from the night before and tossed it to the table in front of him. “The Dothraki have unique customs. They’re my people as much as the Unsullied, the Northmen, the rest of Westeros and even you. I never want one group to feel less important than another. That’s how resentments are built.”

 

“Your aim for a better world is to be inclusive.” He nodded. “Your army certainly depicts that.”

 

She nodded. “A mixture of cultures, men, and women. You’re included in that,” she took a deep breath. “You’ve seen and done a lot of things you shouldn’t have. Pushing Bran Stark from a window is the most important...”

 

Jaime frowned. “I know. I know I nearly killed a little boy to keep a secret...”

 

She took a deep breath. “I know what you did. I believe I can guess all the reasons why. Aside from the affair with your sister, people would have looked at Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen. And if Robert had realized they were yours and not his...”

 

Jaime swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes, well, they all died anyway, didn’t they?”

 

She nodded. “You killed my father.”

 

“Your Grace, is this going to be a meeting where we recall all of my sins?”

 

She put her hands in her lap and shook her head. “No. I actually asked you here because...with the revelation that I was having girls...it made me think of my own mother. Besides Varys, you may be the only person who can tell me anything about her. But Varys didn't spend much time with her.” She took a deep breath and gave him a soft smile. “Ser Barristan told me stories about Rhaegar. But no one has really told me stories about my mother. Tyrion told me that you guarded her for a period. What can you tell me about her?”

 

Jaime furrowed his brow and then rubbed the nape of his neck. “How much do you know about your father’s relationship with her?”

 

“Enough to know that I don’t need you to confirm anything,” she realized she couldn’t keep the anger from her voice. “I know all about my father. Believe me. I try very hard to not be like him, though I know some people think I am as mad.”

 

He furrowed his brow and shook his head slowly. “No, Your Grace, you aren’t like him at all.” He paused for a moment and shifted in his seat. “It pained me to kill your father. Very few people know that. I hate being called the Kingslayer, Oathbreaker. I am both of those, but, very few know the circumstances.”

 

She closed her eyes for a moment. “I...I don’t hold it against you. Not anymore. Your brother has told me all about the events of that night.” She shook her head. “But again, I don’t want to talk about my father.”

  
“Yes, Queen Rhaella,” he said softly. “You look like her. The other night it struck me how much.” He rubbed a hand over his chin and inhaled deeply. “She was everything your father wasn’t. Kind and fair. She loved her children. All of them. She still spoke of the ones she lost...”

 

She swallowed thickly. “You liked her?”

 

He gave her a smile and nodded. “Very much. She treated everyone with respect. She doted on your brothers. Even though Rhaegar was older, she still beamed like the sun when he entered the room.” He chuckled as he stared at the table. “He loved it.”

 

She smiled brightly at him. “And Viserys?”

 

He nodded. “She would walk around the tower, bouncing him and cooing at him. Even when he started walking around, she would still cuddle him to her.” Jaime tilted his head. “She knew you were a girl. She would tell anyone that listened or asked how she was that her daughter was moving around. Viserys would press his ear to her belly to listen to you, sometimes.” He furrowed his brow. “I was relieved when she was sent to Dragonstone.”

 

“Relieved?”

 

“The King had already shut her away, once. I remember when Ser Derry told me he was going with her and Viserys to Dragonstone...it was a huge relief. She...she needed away from him. You needed to be away from him.”

 

“Exiled to Essos in the end.”

 

He was silent for a moment, then, to her surprise, decided to be very candid and open with her. “You think you would have been safer in Westeros? Robert never stopped hunting you. You were an ocean away and he _still_ hunted you.” He frowned. “Years later, he still wanted you dead. Actively tried to have you killed.”

 

She tilted her head and nodded. “I know. Doesn’t mean I don’t wish things could have been different. Not that my father should have been king. Or Viserys. Neither was fit to rule.”

 

“Rhaegar would have been a good king,” Jaime said softly. “I think, though, you will be a better _queen_.”

 

She looked up at him, curious. “Why do you think that?”

 

He shrugged. “You’re enough like your mother. You can be ruthless, but every monarch must be to some degree. But you appear to care about people. Seems to me that’s been lacking in kings and queens lately.”

 

“You don’t think your sister is a good queen?”

 

He turned his gaze away from her and looked down at his hand. “She killed over a thousand people when she blew up the Sept. Tommen killed himself and...it didn’t seem to even phase her. She was on to ruling and crushing her enemies.” He paused, and she could see the conflict on his face. “When a person can’t lament the loss of their own child, then perhaps they are already too lost. You mourn the loss of your dragon. Not because of his power or what he represented to your reign. You mourn because the dragons are your children,” he said softly.

 

“You may watch too closely, Ser.”

 

He shook his head. “Tyrion talks a lot once he’s started drinking.”

 

She chuckled and nodded. “That he does.” She took a deep breath. “Tyrion said you wanted him dead. Has that feeling changed?”

 

Jaime straightened in his seat. “I don’t want him dead. Tyrion may be the only person alive who actually gives a damn about what happens to me.”

 

“I know of someone in Winterfell who cares.”

 

His eyes met hers again, and she was a bit relieved to see hope reflected back at her. “She said farewell to me and I believe she meant it.”

 

She shrugged. “Perhaps she did at the time. But as I tell the king quite often, it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind.”

 

“She’s stubborn.”

 

Daenerys smiled and nodded. “She is. It will have to be a very compelling argument. One that her brothers would endorse.” Upon his silence, she chuckled and shook her head in amusement. “Let’s be honest, their opinion of you couldn’t get worse.”

 

He smirked. “That is...very true. I suppose stranger things have happened.”

  
  



	74. Gendry XII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry and Arya make it to Storm's End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, let me say thank you to sparkles59 for betaing this chapter. She's just the most awesome person and a fantastic writer. If you aren't reading her fics, you're missing out. Go read all her fics!
> 
> Second, let me apologize for the long wait. I didn't explain this here, but I was admitted to the hospital two weeks ago today and had surgery the following Thursday. The recovery from this back surgery has been much more strenuous and harder. More pain, more time for recovery. It's taking me a lot of time to get back to where I even felt like writing.
> 
> Third, thanks to justwanderingneverlost for the gorgeous banner!
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

**GENDRY**

Their group was currently camped beneath a crops of trees, hoping the rain would ease. They would need to get back on the road in the morning, he only hoped the wind would calm as it was making it nearly impossible to set up a true camp. The saddles had been removed from the horses and being kept beneath the heavy covers they used as their tents. The use of a bonfire to keep them warm seemed to be a wish at this point, however Hot Pie was working to build what appeared to be a closed oven to cook them something, rocks stacked together that appeared to fall over. The others searched for the place beneath the canopy of the trees for the place where they would get the least wet. 

 

He leaned against a tree, staring at the muddy road ahead of them even as the dark clouds made it difficult to get a good glimpse of it. The last inn they passed over a day ago had told them that they’d crossed into the Storm Lands. The closer they grew to the keep that belonged to his family, his ancestors, the more nervous he became. He would have felt better if the Hound had still been with them. Despite the man’s grumbling, there was something about his presence that made Gendry feel safer, and he knew the other men felt the same. 

 

He felt her presence behind him before she appeared at his side. “I suppose we’ll have to get used to bad weather, won’t we?” her voice held a tinge of hope which in turn settled his own weariness a bit. It helped soothe him when Arya was more certain.

 

He smirked. “I’d wager that the Storm Lands didn’t earn their name from being tranquil.” She had her arms folded over her chest and she huffed out a breath that curled out in front of her. It wasn’t perfect between them, but it was getting back to their semblance of normal. “Something’s on your mind?”

 

She heaved a deep breath and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I feel like we’re walking into a trap.”

 

Gendry turned to face her and leaned back against a tree. Her face was nearly cloaked completely in shadow, but what little light covered her features, he could see she was worried. That set him on edge even as he tried to reassure her. “You suspect everything is a trap, right?”

 

Arya frowned. “In my experience, it usually is.”

 

He nodded. “We’ll go in expecting it. Don’t let our guard down for any reason until...until when?”

 

She shrugged and shook her head. “I don’t know.” Her dark hair was wet, dripping with water. They were only a few days, perhaps fewer if they could get the horses and really push them. The idea of being warm and in a bed seemed almost a fantasy at this point. “I had...a disturbing dream about...let’s just say we all need to be on our guard.”

 

He pulled her close to him and tucked her beneath his cloak. He rested his head against hers, feeling like she needed his comfort, though she rarely asked for it. She felt it would make her appear weak even though he never doubted her strength. She tucked her head between his chin and chest. She was soaked, but he would keep her beneath the warmth of his cloak until she decided to move.  “Tell me about your dream.”

 

“I don’t even understand it.”

 

“Doesn’t matter. Tell me anyway.”

 

She relayed her dream, of the bull with stag’s horns in the center as the wolves around him were struck down even as he was repeatedly hit. About the lion and lioness coming out of the shadows and the bull having his heart removed. His mind swirled, finding the implication of her dream to be a bit more than he wanted to contemplate. Gendry placed a kiss at her temple and heaved out a sigh. “It probably doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

 

“I think it means that we’re walking into a trap, they’re going to kill you, and everyone with us.”

 

He frowned. “Where were you in this dream?”

 

“Watching, I suppose.”

 

He pulled back but didn’t release her from his hold. “Does that sound right? That you would simply watch us all die without fighting back?”

 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “No. Absolutely not.”

 

He placed a kiss on her forehead. “Then I’m less worried.”

 

“I just wish we were there, already. It feels like we’re on the edge of something, good or bad, and you know how I hate waiting,” she said, a frustrated lilt to her tone and he felt her bunching the fabric of his tunic in her hands. 

 

He gave a small chuckle. “I’ve only ever known you to have endless patience.”

 

“Are you mocking me?”

 

He nodded. “Yes, m’lady. I am.”

 

She lifted her head and her grey eyes appeared playful. “I should punish you by walking away, but you’re so warm.”

 

“Stay as long as you like, then.” His arms tightened around her a bit more. 

 

They heard a triumphant cry behind them and turned to see Hot Pie pumping his fist in the air. “Fire is lit and staying that way!”

 

“Grab your bows.  We’ll hunt for something,” Harry called and the others grabbed did as told. 

 

Arya started to move away, he was sure to help, but he held her to him. “You stay. They can manage without you.”

 

“That your order as a Lord?” she asked as she looked up at him.

 

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You would never listen to an order.”

 

She laid her head back down and tightened her arms around his waist. “It depends on the context in which it is given.”

 

“I’ll never give you an order. You’re going to make your own choices,” he said softly, still feeling the sting of their fight only a week before. 

 

“And you let me make those choices. Whether you like them or not.”

 

He leaned his head against hers. “I’m glad you stayed.”

 

“I wouldn’t have lived with myself if something happened to you,” she said, her voice soft, nearly drowned out by the rain. “Not if I could have been there to help.”

 

“Will you hate me for it? Years from now will you resent me?” He wondered allowed.

 

She shook her head. “No. It was my choice. You wouldn’t have liked it, but you would have let me go. I chose this over revenge.”

 

He smirked. “You’re getting soft.”

 

“Shut up or I’ll kick you.”

 

*~*

 

Gendry didn’t know what to make of the fact that the sun was peeking through the clouds as Storm’s End came into view. The sound of the surf could be heard as Gendry and Arya stopped their horses at the crest of the hill. They had been riding with the banners down, not wanting to draw attention to their travels. But now, faced with the keep in front of them, Gendry looked back at the men with them. “Banners out.”

 

Arya took a deep breath beside him, her hand flexing over the hilt of her sword. “All of you stay alert.” He watched her refocus on the keep. “This is probably a trap.”

 

Gendry noticed Peeta exchange a look with Rhys, but Gendry ushered the two men with the banners, Stephen and Reynold, to the front. “We’re all in this together. Protect one another. Go.”

 

The banners whipped in the breeze as they began rushing forward. The closer they got to the keep, the harder his heart beat. He glanced at Arya, her face one of determination. She would protect them all if it was physically possible. But the thought of losing her was all too real. She didn’t think she needed it, but his goal was to protect  _ her _ . 

 

The Baratheon sigil was flying from the walls of the keep and from the turrets. He didn’t see many outlying buildings but knew from Tyrion that the construction of the keep was such that it could withstand the intense storms. As they approached the gates, they were opened to permit them inside. The courtyard was small and mostly empty save for a few young men waiting to take their horses. 

 

They all dismounted, Arya coming to Gendry’s side, looping her arm through his. She was playing the part of a lady, obviously, otherwise, she never would have done this. Gendry realized with some trepidation that they were probably being watched. 

 

“Welcome m’lord. Ser Gilbert Farring is waiting fer ya inside,” he said, gesturing to two double doors.

 

“Why didn’t they meet us out here?” Arya asked, keeping her cloak covering her sword. 

 

“Weather is finicky. Ne’er know when a storm will brew.”

 

Gendry gave a nod and their horses were led away to an opening in the castle wall that appeared to lead underground. Stephan and Reynold led the way inside, their hands on the hilt of their swords, Gendry and Arya behind them, Harry, Rhys, Peeta, and the others followed.

 

The room smelled of the sea but also of rain. The trickle of water moved over the stones and through the floor. A large hearth was standing lit behind the group in front of them, no riser or such to distinguish them from the interested parties gathered around the perimeter. “Fourteen soldiers along each wall. Four with the men up front,” Arya whispered. 

 

“That’s a lot.”

 

She didn’t even look at him as she kept a pleasant smile on her face. “Nowhere for someone with crossbows to hide. No higher ground.”

 

“Welcome, Lord Gendry Baratheon. We have been expecting you.” Ser Gilbert Farring bowed his head to Gendry. He was a tall man with a square jaw. “I am Ser Gilbert Farring. Your Uncle, Stannis Baratheon, installed me as castellan of Storm's End. This is my second in command, Lord Elwood Meadows, and our Maester Jurene.”

 

“Ser Farring. Lord Meadows. Maester.” He took a deep breath. “This is my betrothed, Lady Arya Stark.”

 

The knight bowed to her. “Welcome to Storm's End.” 

 

Gendry took a deep breath, feeling more anxious the longer they stood there, both companies seemingly sizing one another up. Lord Meadows stepped forward then, a pleasant smile on his face. “We would like to show you the keep, my Lord. Most of it is housed within these walls.” He looked to his left, “And perhaps a few of the ladies could show Lady Stark...”

 

“No,” he said immediately before Arya could protest. “She stays with me.”

 

“My Lord, I assure you she is safe here.”

 

Gendry shook his head. “My Lord, it’s been my experience that nowhere is ever safe.”

 

Lord Meadows looked to the Maester, then Ser Farring. “Very well,” he said calmly and gave a slight nod of his head to one of the soldiers standing along the wall. 

 

Gendry felt like time was moving so quickly he barely had his hammer in hand before several of the guards stepped from the walls and Reynold was run through with a sword. The rest of the soldiers with them unsheathed their blades, Arya still at his side. Ser Farring burst toward Lord Meadows with his sword as the maester stepped back toward the far wall and watched as soldiers began fighting Gendry and his team. 

 

With a swing of his hammer, Gendry took out two, watching the breastplates crush in and Arya was moving around their circle, protecting each of them with Needle. The other soldiers who hadn’t been attacking their group jumped in to help Gendry, Arya and his men, most of the attacking soldiers had fallen and only Reynold lost from their group. His heart was near to pounding out of his chest as he advanced on the two still fighting. 

 

It was Arya’s thin blade that pressed through Lord Meadow’s throat. Gendry watched as he spit blood from his mouth before he collapsed on the floor, dead. She turned her sword onto Ser Farring. “Were you part of this ambush?” Gendry asked. “Are you in the pocket of Cersei Lannister?”

 

He shook his head, his eyes glaring at the dead man on the floor. “No. I’m loyal to the Baratheons.”

 

“Some would argue Cersei was a Baratheon.”

 

“Some would also argue that she should have been executed for killing her husband, the true Baratheon king.”

 

Arya tilted her head. “And you know that two Targaryens march towards King’s Landing to take it from her.”

 

He nodded. “I served Robert, then Stannis. The entire realm suffers under her. If the Targaryens feel they can do a better job, then let them take it. My job is to serve the Baratheons in Storm’s End.”

 

Arya frowned. “Swear it, now, to your Lord.”

 

Ser Gilbert moved to one knee in front of Gendry, Arya at his side, her sword dripping blood on the floor. The rest of the men watched as Ser Farring pledge his sword and life to Gendry and his protection. 

 

Gendry turned eyes to the Maester and took a deep breath. “I need to send a raven.”

 

*~*

 

Gendry knelt over Reynold’s fallen form, feeling guilt coursing through his veins. This was his fault. He should have better prepared them, especially after Arya’s dream. “I’ll make sure he is properly taken care of, my Lord.” Gendry looked up at Maester Juren and only gave him a nod. 

 

He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and turned to see Arya at his side. “He was quiet.”

 

Gendry nodded. “More so than the others, that’s for sure. I sent a raven to your sister in Winterfell to let his family know. I also sent one to Darry. Jon and Daenerys should be there by the time the raven arrives.” He frowned and glanced at her, seeing the resolute expression on her face. “Where are the others?”

 

“Harry and Peeta are outside the door and the others went with Ser Farring to the kitchens with Hot Pie. Ser Farring said he’ll join us after he’s shown them the way.”

 

He nodded. “Good. I have questions.” He looked at her solemnly, his voice low. “Perhaps it might be prudent to play the game of faces.”

 

She walked with Gendry to the door and then out to the hall with Harry and Peeta following. He still had his hammer in his hand and he knew Arya had Needle at the ready. They made it back to the main hall and Ser Farring was seemingly waiting for them. 

 

The knight held his head high, but even Gendry could see that he was trepidatious. “I am sorry about Lord Meadows. I...I did not know about his treachery.”

 

Gendry glanced at Arya and she nodded. “He was your second but you didn’t know?”

 

“It was a mistake on my part. He had been by my side since Stannis appointed me to Storm’s End. He was my friend for longer than that.” Gendry cast his eyes at Arya and a small nod told him to continue but Ser Farring gave them both a wary look. “What is happening here? You continue to look at her and wait for her to nod.”

 

Gendry took a deep breath. “Lady Arya has the ability to tell if you’re lying. So far, you’ve been honest, and you have nothing to fear from her or me as long as you continue to be so.” He looked around at the hall. “Did you order the hall cleared or did Lord Meadows?”

 

He tilted his head. “Lord Meadows. He told me that it would be better if the area looked...it’s a ridiculous statement, now, though.”

 

“And what is usually in this room?” Arya asked.

 

Ser Farring took two steps forward and extended his hands, “There’s a long table here,” he explained. He gestured to the water dripping down the stones behind him. “This is the centerpiece of the hall.” He looked down at the rest of it. “There are smaller tables laid out down there - usually thirteen, but for feasts, we can do fifteen. We’ve been allowing the soldiers and their families to come in and eat here. The hall...it echoes too much if there aren’t people in it.” As if to prove his point, Gendry heard his words echo over the stone.

 

He nodded, deciding that it would be a better way of getting to know the people that lived in the keep and would help maintain it. He knew that loyalty from the small folk within the walls would serve better, at times, than having pompous lords telling him what to do. “We’ll continue that. Fill this room with people.” The rumble of thunder could be heard and he felt nearly dead on his feet with exhaustion. “Ser Farring, it has been a long day. Would you show us to the Lord’s chamber?”

 

He cast a look at Arya and then Gendry. “We have a room prepared for your lady.”

 

Arya stepped forward, however, and silenced him. “I go where he goes.”

 

He furrowed his brow looking to protest. “You’re...betrothed.”

 

“Does that matter to you?”

 

“To me, no. But it might matter to some of the Lords that are sworn to the Baratheon’s. They still adhere to the Faith of the Seven and if they find out...”

 

“Will you be the one to gossip, Ser Farring?” Arya asked, but didn’t wait for his answer. “Given what happened here today, Lord Gendry and I will not be out of one another’s sight for long.”

 

Gendry nearly smirked at how well she put the man in his place. “Our men will also be the ones to guard us until I feel more secure with the people residing in this keep.”

 

Ser Farring nodded. “Of course, my Lord. I’ll show you to your chambers personally.”

 

Arya linked her arm through his again and he gave her a brief smile. Ser Farring led them down a set of stairs and toward the middle of the castle. He thought it would have been higher up. “The Lords chamber is in the center of the castle?”

 

Ser Farring nodded. “Yes, my Lord. Most of the rooms are located in the center of the keep.” Gendry took to mind each turn and how to get back to the main hall.

 

They stopped outside of a door with a stag carved into the wood. Ser Farring opened the door with the key and then placed it in Arya’s hand. She opened the door and much like the hall, water dripped down the far wall. He could make out what looked to be a large four-poster bed; the closest to heaven they could ever hope to touch. 

 

“We’d like a bath drawn...”

 

But the smile on Ser Farring’s face cut him off. He walked into the room to show a bathing house with an attached privy as part of the main suite complete with steamed water and yet another waterfall dripping into it. “Your suite comes with a natural hot spring. The rooms for your men are down the hall.” 

 

“Another waterfall,” Arya remarked.

 

Ser Farring nodded. “It’s the way the water collecting from the roof gets down. It drips through the castle and warms the lower it goes.”

 

Gendry felt himself truly smile. “Tomorrow, I would like to see the rest of the keep. Also, have Hot Pie, the cook that came with us, bring our food here as well as the soldiers guarding him. I’d like us to all have a meal together in honor of Reynold.” Ser Farring nodded. “Oh, one last thing,” Gendry said to Ser Farring, “You are welcome to join us for our meal.”

 

He gave Gendry a genuine but sad smile. “It would be my honor my Lord, but I need to personally write to Lord Meadows wife to tell her what happened. Any punishment to reap on her?”

 

Gendry shook his head. “She lost her husband who turned out to be a traitor. I would think that is punishment enough.”

 

Ser Farring nodded. “I will have the main hall set up once more in the morning and you can break your fast with the soldiers.”

 

“And the small folk,” Arya said after several moments of silence. “Gendry was once a blacksmith. I suggest that be the first stop on our actual tour.”

 

Ser Farring nodded. “Of course. I shall see you in the morning and will give your message to your company.”

 

Gendry shut the door behind him and he and Arya began searching every crevice of the room where someone could possibly hide.

 

Their large trunk was already at the end of the bed. He came back into the main chamber once more and examined the room. He sat on the arm of a chair taking it all in. A fire was burning in the large hearth, great antlers hanging over it. Stags and does alike were carved into the stone surrounding the fire. 

 

He felt her hands smoothe over his neck and he looked at her, wondering if he looked as tired as she did.

 

“Stand up for a moment?” She took his hand in hers, then hugged him tightly. Her breath puffed heavily in his ear and he squeezed her a little tighter. “Congratulations, Lord Gendry Baratheon.”

 

He shook his head as he pulled back from her. “I don’t feel like there’s much to celebrate. Reynold died, we could have all been slaughtered in that main hall...”

 

“But we weren’t,” she said softly, her fingers scratching at the scruff of his neck. “We’re going to see to it that Storm's End thrives. We'll do it together. You’ve already sent home about his death to his family and we’ll arrange that he has a proper send-off, even if we can’t send him home to the halls of his father. We’ll uphold the traditions as best we can.”

 

A knock sounded on the door and Arya moved from his arms to open the door. Several servants came in with laden trays of food which had Gendry's mouthwatering. Their main sitting room was cleared away, leaving room for a large table to be set up. The rest of their men, those who had traveled from Winterfell with them, came in after the servants. Gendry could see they were also taking the death of Reynold hard. Peeta’s usually happy face was turned down in a frown. Harry’s exuberance had seemingly been snuffed out like a flame. They had all grown close out of proximity but became like brothers out of necessity. He felt the guilt hanging around his neck like a yoke.

 

Gendry gestured to the seats as Hot Pie was the last to join them. He handed a rolled up cloth to Gendry which he unwrapped and smiled to see a loaf of bread shaped into a stag. He smiled up at Hot Pie. “Thank you. Perhaps you’ll do the honors for us and cut it?”

 

He nodded and took his seat on the left beside Arya. Wine was poured, food was served, and the men even managed to find a little laughter as they went along. It was Harry who spoke the question that still weighed heavily on his mind. “Do you think they’ll attack us again?”

 

Everyone went silent and Arya spoke. “Soldiers are hard to predict. But I think if the townspeople are won over then it shouldn’t be as easy to corrupt them.”

 

“People can be bought,” Rhys offered. “An unfortunate reality we had to face today.”

 

“And for days to come,” he sighed. “I’ve requested that only our men guard Arya and I because you’re the only men we can trust. Also, there has already been a statement about Arya and me staying together.”

 

Arya shrugged. “Their problem.”

 

“True. But you gentlemen will be discrete and if asked...”

 

“If asked about Lady Arya we’ll tell the truth. There is no woman more fierce or loyal than her and no one who would fight harder for Lord Baratheon and what you do is no one's concern,” Peeta interjected. “We will defend you and your honor, Lady Stark.”

 

The others around the table chimed in and Arya smiled, and Gendry would tease her later, at the hint of red on her cheeks. “Thank you,” she said after a long pause.

 

Gendry took a deep breath. “Tomorrow we’ll actually get a tour of the keep and I’ll start making inquiries about the forge for you Harry, if you’re still considering blacksmithing.”

 

Harry sat back in his chair. “Maybe in the future. I wouldn’t abandon your guard with a threat hanging over you.”

 

Gendry took a deep breath. “Your loyalty is appreciated, but  _ I _ wouldn’t let  _ you _ abandon your desire to be a smith if that’s what you want.”

 

“You need to be seen as the Lord of Storm’s End by everyone and _that_ to be secure before I can move along to another position.” Gendry felt a great swell of pride for the men sitting around his table. “I’ll accept your offer when the war is won.”

 

He took a deep breath and nodded. “If that is what you want.” After a moment, Gendry gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

 

*~*

 

Gendry stared up at the canopy, unable to find sleep. Even though he was relieved to finally be warm and dry, safely inside a keep,  _ his  _ keep, he still felt the weight of everything weighing on him. Arya lay on her side facing him, the little puffs of her breath against his shoulder were reassuring. He still had her. He felt restless and finally sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. He looked around the darkened room. The bed took up a majority of the space, settled in the center of the room and the hearth was on the wall across from the bed. The fire was nothing but burning embers. It was larger than the room he and Arya had shared at Winterfell. Different sizes of antlers adorned each wall. The lack of windows made it hard to know what time of day it was, but the room was warm, the bed was soft, yet sleep still eluded him.

 

He put his head in his hands and sighed. He relaxed a bit as he felt her hands move along his shoulder and then her body pressed against his back. “Why are you still awake?”

 

“Worried,” was all he said.

 

She wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. Thunder could be heard which made him wonder what sort of storm was taking place if the sound of it could be heard deep within the walls. “Tell me what you’re worried about. I might not be able to help, but it could make you feel better to talk about it.”

 

He covered her hands with his. “A lot of people are depending on me. I’m worried I won’t be what the people need me to be.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I worry that people will slander you. What if it’s as Ser Farring says and the other Lord’s take offense? I won’t have anyone speak ill of you, Arya. I’d see them dead first but I feel like that is the wrong reaction.” She released him and he turned to face her. “I love you,” he whispered. “You are what’s important to me.”

 

Gendry looked down as she took his hands. Her voice was soft when she spoke, “I love you, too. I don’t want to be pressured into marriage...”

 

“That is not my intent with this conversation,” he interrupted her. 

 

“I know,” her voice was reassuring. “We will take it as it comes. You’re the Lord of a great house. I’m your betrothed. We can leave it at that and deal with any issues that arise... _ if  _ they arise.” She cupped his face in her hand and pressed her forehead against his. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out together.” He released a sighed and nodded. “That doesn’t ease your worries, does it?”

 

He shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face. “I’m a man born and raised in Flea Bottom. This never entered my mind until your brother offered it to me.”

 

“He trusts you. I trust you.” He closed his eyes and savored her lips against his. “And remember, I’m going to help you. We’re going to do this together as best we can and that’s all we can promise.” Thunder rumbled again and she looked up, allowing him to examine her features under the dim candlelight. Her eyes were bright with curiosity and he wondered if she was thinking about the storm as he had been. Her hair had dried since their bath, falling to her shoulders in a tangle. Her lean, lithe body was curled close to him. She smelled clean, but still carried the scent of snow and something wild. 

 

He shifted on the bed and tugged her down with him so his lips met hers in a heated kiss. His teeth caught her bottom lip and she gasped. She pushed on his shoulder and he broke the kiss to look down at her and she pushed on his shoulder again until he rolled off her and she directed him to his back.

 

He caressed her thighs as she straddled his hips. She leaned down and he thought she meant to kiss him but instead she traced his bottom lip with her thumb. “I love you. I hope you don’t doubt that.”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

 

“My reluctance for marriage...”

 

“Arya...stop. I know. I do. I know why.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled. “I believe that when I ask you, when I really  _ ask  _ you, you’ll say yes and you’ll be my wife. You’re one of the few things in this world I have ever believed in. I won’t have doubts in you now.”

 

She did kiss him then and brought his hands to her breasts. Her tongue flicked against his top lip and she broke the kiss to moan, giving him the opportunity to lift his head and take her nipple into his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her and had her pinned beneath him on the bed once more. He trailed his lips along her throat and down to her breasts. His eyes met hers as his teeth scraped over the rosy peek, feeling it harden more beneath his touch. 

 

“It’s been so long since I had a proper taste of you,” he commented.

 

She bit her bottom lip then smiled. Her hands smoothed over the back of his head before moving to his shoulders and nudging him further down. “Then I insist you have your fill,” she whispered.

 

His fingers danced over her skin and to her cunt. Her nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as he kissed down her abdomen, feeling her tremble beneath him. This is the intimacy they’d truly been missing since their fight. She shifted beneath him, propping her foot on his shoulder when he settled between her thighs. He teased her with kisses to her inner thighs. “Gendry,” she muttered and his eyes met hers as he spread her open and stroked his tongue over her entrance. 

 

She sat up on her elbows, her breathing labored. Her hips shifted beneath him, trying to direct him, but he refused to comply so quickly. He wanted her nearly mad for him. He turned away and kissed her thigh again and she thumped his back with her foot. “Don’t tease,” she gritted between her teeth.

 

He moved his fingers over her slit then slid one inside her, feeling her clench around it as he stroked in and out of her. She dropped back to the pillow and her hips moved in time with the strokes. He watched her for a moment, noting how flushed her skin was, how her chest heaved as she breathed, even how her eyes were closed as she moaned out the word “more”.

 

He added another finger and his tongue sought out her clit and flicked his tongue over it twice before he brought it into his mouth. He alternated between sucking and teasing the tiny nub with his tongue. “Almost,” she gasped, and he could feel her tightening against his fingers and her body stiffened before she shook beneath him as she tumbled over the edge. He stroked his fingers a few more times before removing them and replaced them with his tongue, tasting her release. 

 

She tugged on his wrist and he looked up at her to see her crook her finger at him, beckoning him up to her. He gave her clit one last lick, causing her to gasp before he crawled on top of her. She brought his mouth to hers and he groaned at the feel of her hands on his cock. “Inside me, now.”

 

“As m’lady commands,” he whispered.

  
  
  
  



	75. Sansa XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa watches relationships around her flourish as two new guests arrive at Winterfell and the promise of another leaves the Lord of Winterfell terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Recap: Sansa is supportive of Jon and Dany as King and Queen of Westeros. She was very nice to Daenerys as Daenerys was very nice to her. They somewhat confided in one another. Jaime arrives at Winterfell without the Lannister army because of Cersei. Sansa threatens to take his head, especially after Bran reveals that Jaime is the one that pushed him from the tower. Jon lets Bran decide and he chooses to let him live. Sansa is livid. Jaime and Sansa continue to find themselves alone and arguing, but one night Sansa is attacked by one of the dead and Jaime saves her life. She's conflicted. Jaime nearly loses his arm in the final battle and Sansa sits by his bedside even though she can't explain why. Jaime finds out that Cersei lied about being pregnant and turns to the one person who is always brutally honest with him: Sansa. Sansa gets upset because feels like Jaime is trying to replace Cersei with her. Not the case, but it takes Tyrion to convince him to be honest. When he is, he finds out that Sansa wants him. She's still timid about being intimate but shows Jaime some of the scars that Ramsay left her with. They grow closer emotionally and physically. Jon and Bran are firmly against it. Sansa tells Jaime that when he leaves to go south it's done as she is going to stay on as Lady of Winterfell. They spend the night together and she bids him farewell the next day. Jaime is involved in the Battle at the Twins and saves Daenerys's life. Jaime and Tyrion continue to try and mend their relationship.
> 
>  
> 
> A/N: Thanks to Sparkles59 for doing the beta work on this chapter. 
> 
> Thanks to justwanderingneverlost for the gorgeous banner!
> 
> To my lovely Tarts that continue to be some of the most awesome women I know: meisie, jaqtkd, FrostbitePanda, and NoOrdinaryLines
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by the song “Northern Downpour” by Panic! at The Disco. 
> 
> Let me know in the comments what you think.

Sansa jabbed her sword at Podrick who sidestepped her. Their swords clanged against one another and she ducked as he swiped at her head, but before she could correct, Podrick had the point of his sparring sword pointed at her throat. She stomped her foot in frustration and resisted the urge to throw the sword to the ground.

 

Brienne huffed out a frustrated breath and shook her head. “You took your eyes off of him and your footwork was sloppy.”

 

Sansa scowled at the ground, then took up her sword again and faced off against Pod. However, the sound of a voice being cleared behind her took all of their attention.

 

“Tormund?” Brienne said, relief in her tone. “Where have you been? You left four days ago!”

 

It was then Sansa saw the two little girls, one with raven black hair and eyes as blue as Tormund's. The other girl, younger, blazing red hair with inquisitive blue eyes, and freckles that covered her face. Both girls were dressed like Wildlings.

 

“I went South to the Wildling camps. I’ve kept them away from all of this as long as I could,” he said in answer. “This one,” he said, rubbing his hand over the older girls hair, “is Derika and this is Kara.”  _ My daughters _ hung in the air unsaid. 

 

Sansa snuck a glance at a surprised Brienne but moved over to Tormund and the two girls. “Welcome to Winterfell,” she said to them. 

 

“This is Lady Sansa,” Tormund said with a grateful nod of his head. “It’s her keep.”

 

Kara was the first to speak. “You’re kissed by fire, too.”

 

She nodded. “This is Podrick and Lady Brienne.”

 

“Not _lady_. Just Brienne,” Brienne corrected, but Sansa thought it was more out of habit than any conviction behind it.

 

Derika smiled. “You’re the one Papa talks about. His warrior lady.”

 

Brienne shifted on her feet and Sansa looked at Tormund. “Have they eaten yet?”

 

“Thought we could do that when we got here,” he offered. 

 

Sansa gave him a nod. “Pod, why don’t you escort us to the hall so we can eat while Tormund and Brienne talk?”

 

Podrick gave a nod and followed Sansa, looking back at her sworn sword as she stared after them. Tormund was speaking but they had already gone too far out of range to hear what was being said. 

 

Pod looked over at her, a smile on his face, “What are the chances he comes into the hall without a black eye?”

 

Sansa chuckled. “Slim to none.”

 

*~*

 

Later that morning, she was finally joined by Brienne who stared at her as if she wanted to say something. “Speak your mind,” she encouraged as she sat down the quill and closed the ledger she would have Bran go over later. 

 

“He didn’t tell me he had children.”

 

Sansa frowned, folding her hands in her lap. “Are you certain?”

 

“Very certain, my Lady. Yet, everyone else seemed to know.”

 

Sansa nodded. “He jokes often how Jon was prettier than his daughters.”

 

“They were never here with him, and he told me why. Also told me why he decided now was the time to bring them here.” Sansa waited for her response, then prodded with a wave of her hand. “He wants them with him, of course, but he wants me to help train them to fight. Thinks it will be safer for them to learn from me than from some of the Wildlings.” Brienne stood and began to pace. “How...how could he not tell me?”

 

“Why didn’t he?”

 

“He says he thought I knew.” She stopped and stared at Sansa with a deep frown. “He left for four days, didn’t tell me where he was going or what he was going to do, he just left. And when he came back, he has two little girls...”

 

Sansa stared at her desk for a moment, trying to find the right words, but they failed her. Instead, she decided to remind Brienne that this wasn’t the end of the world. “They’re very sweet. And apparently, all Tormund did was sing your praises. Derika has a hero-worship for you.”

 

Brienne sat across from her again. “He wants me to train them but how do I do that without beating the shit out of him with my training sword?”

 

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Beat on him with that sword. Teach him a lesson,” she said with a slight laugh, which caused Brienne to smile just a little. “Train them as you do Podrick and me. There is no one better than you. And look at it this way, he cares for you enough to not only trust you with letting you into their lives but to also oversee teaching them to use a sword when he could easily train them with an axe.”

 

Brienne frowned and shook her head. “I think he wants to get married.”

 

Sansa raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh? Has he been giving you hints?”

 

She shrugged. “He’s been discussing marriage rituals. Asked me if I would do it like King Jon or would I be open to the Wildling way.”

 

She tilted her head, curiosity getting the best of her. “What is the Wildling way?”

 

Brienne's frown deepened. “I’m supposed to try and slit his throat and he’s not to let me.”

 

Sansa thought on this for a moment and tilted her head. “What are you going to do?”

 

Her pacing continued, her hand never leaving the hilt of her sword. “I don’t know, my lady. I don’t know what that would mean for my vow to you...”

 

“I can release you from your vow.”

 

“No you can not, so don’t say that again,” she said vehemently. “All those years trying to get to you to get you safely back home...I’m not going to let you dissolve me from my vow.”

 

She felt a deep swelling of pride to hear how devoted Brienne was to her. She was equally devoted to her. Before she came into her life, no one had shown that they had faith in her. “Then I will keep you as my sworn sword. Do you want my opinion or do you want to continue complaining about Tormund?”

 

She stopped pacing and took her seat in front of Sansa again, her shoulders actually slouched. “Of course I want your opinion.”

 

“You love Tormund,” she said softly. “You may protest and say that you don’t, but the truth is you love him. And I think you want to marry him.” She folded her hands on the desk and stared Brienne in the eye, “but I think this has very little to do with Tormund and more to do with you.”

 

“How do you mean?”

 

She heaved a sighed and moved to sit in the chair beside Brienne. “The stories you told me about your youth. Feeling like you were different from other females and so you stripped away the things that could make you like that and became a warrior. Only, Tormund doesn’t want anything like that from you.” She gave Brienne a smile. “He’s attracted to you as you are. He loves you because of your strength and power and for all the other hundreds of reasons that  _ you _ inspire loyalty in people. But I think somewhere inside is the young girl who got her heart broken in her youth and that’s holding you back.”

 

Brienne looked at the floor, but Sansa could see the sad expression on her face. Perhaps she expected too little of Tormund. “You could be right.”

 

“I’m going to ask a question and you can tell me it’s none of my business, but are you and Tormund...intimate?”

 

Brienne blushed all the way to her flaxen hair. “My lady...”

 

“I would never tell anyone,” she rushed to assure her, “but I ask because, strip away all the armor, does Tormund want you as a woman?”

 

Brienne looked down at her hands and then back at Sansa, resoluteness coloring her face. “Yes,” she said so softly Sansa almost missed it.

 

“You’re free to do as you like, and if that is marry Tormund then you have my blessing.”

 

Brienne furrowed her brow. “And the girls?”

 

“Teach them as you wish someone had taught you. You might find that you take to it better than you think.”

 

She scowled and huffed out a breath. “I still want to punch him in the face for not telling me.”

 

Sansa stood and moved behind the desk once more. “If you break your hand, don’t come crying to me about it.” She looked up at her friend, a slight smile curving her lips. “Even if he deserves it.”

 

Brienne smiled then as well. “Do you want me to stay in here with you or wait outside?”

 

“Whichever you prefer,” she said, going back to the ledger from earlier. Brienne left the room and she sent the other guard away before she closed the door. 

 

The maester knocked on the door moments later and gave her two ravens scrolls. The first was from Lady Mormont wanting to know if she had heard any news from the south and the march to King's Landing. The second letter was from Arya letting her know they had reached the Crossroads Inn. She released a sigh of relief and stood to leave her solar, ledger tucked under her arm as she went to find her brother, Brienne following behind her. “Arya and Gendry have made it to the Crossroads.”

 

Brienne smiled. “I hope they continue to have good fortune while they travel. Arya’s almost too stubborn to suffer anything else.”

 

Sansa smiled. “I almost feel sorry for Gendry, at times. Having to deal with her stubbornness for the rest of his life is a task I wouldn’t want.”

 

Brienne chuckled at that. “He seems impervious to it.”

 

“Which means he’ll live longer,” she smiled at Pod as they approached, only the look on his face wasn’t a pleasant one.

 

“What’s wrong?” Brienne asked.

 

“Courier arrived not long ago. He sent me out.”

 

Sansa frowned and knocked on the door. She didn’t hear Bran’s approval for her to enter but she did anyway. She found her brother leaning over the desk, his hair balled in his fists as he didn’t look up. She closed the door behind her, leaving Brienne and Pod in the hallway.

 

“Bran?” She moved forward and saw a letter open in front of him. She slid it from under his gaze and he looked up at her as she read over his words he’d written weeks ago to Meera. 

 

“She hadn’t opened it,” he said as he sat back in his chair and stared at his hands. “It was returned to me...with a message from the courier.”

 

She frowned. “What message?”

 

“ _Leave her be._ ”

 

Sansa slammed the letter onto the desk. “ _ Leave her be _ ? That’s it?”

 

He stared at the parchment in her hand before he shoved everything on the desk to the floor, surprising Sansa with his sudden outburst. He went back to his head in his hands. This could not stand. She put the ledger on the desk beside him and reached for the ink blotter and quill from the floor as well as parchment. “Then you write her again.”

 

Bran looked up at her. “She said to leave her.”

 

“I know what she said,” she bit back, angry on her brother’s behalf. She tried to compose herself. It wouldn’t do to get so upset when Bran was already angry. “That’s why you’re going to try harder. This time, we’ll tell the courier to camp on the grounds until she actually responds. I’ll write to Lord Reed if necessary. She can’t simply tell you to let her be without reading your letter,” she said adamantly. She pulled a chair over to sit beside Bran. “Now, take this,” she said as she shoved the quill into his hand. 

 

Bran stared at it and Sansa wanted to shake him and make him understand. He hurt Meera. He’d have to make an effort. “Bran, I want you to pour your heart out. Everything you feel when you think of Meera I want you to put it in that letter. No matter how you might think it’s a stupid sentiment, you tell her.”

 

Bran looked increasingly uncomfortable with the idea and she rolled her eyes at him. She took the parchment and quill from him. “Fine. I’ll write it. But they have to be your words.”

 

“Sansa...”

 

“Bran,” she interrupted, “start talking.”

 

He closed his eyes and looked toward the window. “It’s all really private, though.”

 

Sansa leaned back in her chair and huffed out a breath. “Bran...you see everything. I’m sure you’ve seen more than you wanted of my horror. Why should you get to have secrets from me?”

 

He started to say something but shook his head. “It’s not that I wanted to see it...”

 

“Bran, my point is that you have to give something to get something. If you are set against me not hearing about the inner workings of your feelings for Meera, I’ll respect that, however, if you give up after one rejection...”

 

“I’m not giving up!” He insisted.

 

“This certainly sounds like you’re giving up. Or is it that you’re so used to seeing everything that you don’t know what to do when your sight is blocked?”

 

Bran glared at her and took the parchment and quill. She sat back in the chair with a smug satisfaction. Bran didn’t look at her as he spoke again, “I can feel you gloating. Stop.” She took the ledger and walked to the door. “Sansa,” he said and she stopped to look at him, “thank you.”

 

She gave him a smile. “You’re welcome. Remember, pour your heart out. Send someone to fetch me when you’re done.”

 

Bran heaved a sigh and went back to writing. 

 

*~*

 

Sansa was seated with Brienne, Tormund, and the two younger girls as they ate dinner. Tormund had been telling them stories about the fight against the dead and how he got his newest scar during the battle. Derika was more interested in the stories of Brienne.

 

“What did you do?” The little girl asked her.

 

“We fought off the Walkers. Your father, a few others, and I took the commanders.”

 

“You see, her sword killed them. Cut through them and they shattered like ice.”

 

Kira looked at the blade at her side. “It’s a big sword. Where did you get it?”

 

Brienne smiled at Sansa and then the little girls. “It was a gift. A knight gave it to me and sent me looking for Lady Sansa, to protect her.”

 

Sansa looked down at her hands, wondering what Jaime was doing at that moment. Was he eating dinner as well? Was he sleeping already? She nearly shook her head, knowing that he was probably drinking with his brother.

 

Podrick suddenly burst into the room, out of breath. The three adults in the room all rose to their feet while the little girls looked on in confusion. “Bran says to come quick. They’re being attacked.”

 

Sansa lifted her skirts as she followed behind Podrick, running down the hall to the Godswood. Brienne had come with her.  Bran’s new guard, a Wildling by the name of Riff was kneeling nearby as he was speaking.

 

“Bran?” Sansa said as she moved around in front of him. “What’s happening?”

 

His eyes were white, but he was talking to her. “Their camp has been attacked. The Golden Company.” Tormund came out to the wood and stood nearby to listen. “Jon is fighting them off. Drogon and Rhaegal are in the skies. They’re picking up the elephants and setting them on fire. Daenerys...is on the ground. She and Missandei are being chased...” Bran was quiet for a long while and she held her breath, hoping he would give them more information soon. Sansa put her hand over her mouth, hoping that her good sister would be safe. “Jaime and Tyrion saved her. They’re protecting her. Jon is fighting with...” his voice dropped, taking in a sad tone, “Lord Glover has fallen.” Sansa took a deep breath and fought off the tears. “Jon is frantically looking for Daenerys. There are horns...the leaders of the Golden Company are dead...they’re signaling retreat. The Dothraki aren’t letting them.”

 

“Daenerys?”

 

“She’s afraid for Jon...but she’s safe.” Bran was quiet for a few more moments then said simply, “it’s over. The leftover Golden Company are being taken to Daenerys and Jaime has gone to find Jon.”

 

Sansa sank back against the heart tree, feeling like she could breathe again. She let the fear for her family wash through her for a few moments and was barely aware of Bran asking them to give them some time alone. Podrick and Riff went to the gate, Brienne and Tormund following. A single torch was tucked into the ground, lighting up the area around them.

 

“You alright?” Bran asked.

 

She shook her head. “They’re out there risking their lives and all we can do is sit here in Winterfell.”

 

“What would you do if you were with them?” Bran questioned. “You serve the most good in Winterfell.”

 

“I know. That doesn’t mean I like my family putting themselves in harm’s way. We could have lost them all in that battle.”

 

She stared at her hands and Bran sighed. “You’re right. It’s frustrating.”

 

“You know what’s more frustrating? Feeling useless.”

 

“How are you useless?” He questioned. “You’re tending to the North. You’re teaching me what I need to know, what Maester Luwin didn’t have the time to teach me. What Father and Robb didn’t have time to teach me,” he said as he looked down at his lap. “I’m glad you’re here.”

 

She sat up on her knees and took his hands in hers. She gave him a weak smile. “I’m here until you force me to leave.”

 

Bran squeezed her fingers just a bit. “It’s been a week since the second letter.”

 

It was Sansa’s turn to squeeze his fingers. “She’ll see that you aren’t giving up. She’ll see this time.”

 

He frowned and his dark eyes met hers. “I hope you’re right.”

 

She stood and didn’t release his hands. “Meera will read it, Bran. I know it. I’ll get Pod and Riff to move you back inside,” she said as she leaned down and kissed the top of Bran’s head. She started to walk away from him but his voice stopped her. “Sansa?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome. I’ll send Riff and Pod.”

 

She exited the Godswood and sent Bran's guard in to him as Brienne escorted her back into the keep. “The King and Queen still live. I hope things continue in their favor,” Brienne said softly.

 

“As do I.”

 

Brienne was quiet a moment before she smiled. “Jaime saved her.”

 

Sansa gave a very small smile and nodded. “He’s trying to be a good man.”

 

“Perhaps it is enough to convince...”

 

She opened the door to her room and Brienne followed her in. Sansa looked at the floor as she sat on the edge of her bed. “It will never be enough to convince anyone. Jaime is responsible for Bran being crippled. There isn’t enough hoping and praying on my part that could ever change that.”

 

Brienne sighed. “You don’t have hope? Even a small one?”

 

She shook her head. “No. Bran and Jon, rightfully so, would rather see him dead. If he wasn’t useful to them in King’s Landing I’m sure he’d already been dead.”

 

She took this in and reached forward and put a hand on Sansa’s shoulder. “Don’t lose hope, my Lady. We don’t know what this war has yet to bring.”

 

Sansa swallowed thickly. “Get back to Tormund and the girls. I’m going to get some rest.”

 

Sansa watched her go. Her mind whirled around, trying to keep hope away. It would be so tempting to fall into its clutches and sink into it. The possibility of a future. It wasn’t feasible. She knew that. She had her maid come in and help with her hair and get undressed. She donned a robe and had the woman leave her.

 

She went to her chest and opened the drawer to reach in the back and found the tunic. She brought it to her nose and fought back the tears. It still smelled of him and she dreaded the day when it no longer did. She felt the familiar ache in her chest whenever her thoughts lingered on Jaime too long. Jaime had saved Daenerys, but not even that would be enough to convince Jon or Bran that they should be together. She fought off the tears, swiping at them as they fell anyway. She slid the tunic back into the drawer and crawled onto her bed, desperate to push him out of her mind.

 

*~*

 

Sansa slid her gloves on as she and Brienne walked down the hall out to their lesson. Bran sat on the breezeway, Podrick behind him. “Arya and Gendry were attacked by bandits on the road. Arya is alright but Gendry took an arrow to the shoulder.”

 

Sansa frowned. “Where are they?” 

 

“A few days from King’s Landing. They’re fighting.”

 

“Arya and Gendry?” Brienne asked, and Sansa had to admit that even she had a hard time imagining Gendry fighting with Arya about anything.

 

“Yes. Arya wants to go to King’s Landing and kill Cersei.”

 

“On her own?” Sansa asked panicked.

 

Bran nodded. “Gendry wants her to stay and go with him to Storm’s End. The Hound has been telling her she’s being a fool.”

 

“The Hound being a voice of reason between those two,” she said as she shook her head. “Gendry is alright?”

 

Bran nodded. “The Hound took care of the wound.”

 

Sansa leaned against the railing, wanting to throttle her sister. She could potentially destroy Jon and Daenerys’ plans when they got South. Arya’s desire for revenge was clouding her mind. But then, thinking of Ramsay, she understood that desire all too well. No one deserved to die more than Cersei. “Let’s hope she changes her mind.”

 

They were both quiet and Bran looked out over the courtyard. “I wish none of them had to leave.”

 

She smiled sadly. “So do I.”

 

“Everyone seemed so happy here.”

 

She shrugged lightly. “It’s home. That’s how you’re supposed to feel when you’re home.” She looked at him and sighed. “Do you feel it?”

 

Bran hesitated a moment, and his words made her sad for her brother, “I hardly remember what it felt like to be happy. It’s just a wisp of a memory. I only ever feel it, really, when I think of Meera. Which is odd. A lot of really terrible things happened to us while we were together. But the thought of her face makes me feel better.”

 

Sansa stared at him, her eyes wide then smiled. “I hope you put that in your letter.”

 

He gave her a small smile. “I did.”

 

The gates opened and the courier they sent to Greywater entered. Three weeks since they sent him on his way. Bran’s gaze hardened as he took a deep breath. “And what do I do if she rejects me again?”

 

“You keep trying,” Sansa insisted. “It’s all you can do.”

 

The man handed over the letter and gave a nod to Sansa before he walked away. She could see that it was the seal for House Reed and felt hope blossom in her chest for Bran. He opened it and started reading, his expression growing darker with every word. He finally dropped it beside him and Sansa was quick to pick it up from the ground. “Can I read it?” He nodded.

 

_ Bran, _

 

_ I thought you would accept the first letter and leave me alone. You never knew when to give up. You hurt me deeply when I left Winterfell, and I should skin you the way Osha and I used to skin rabbits. You never denied that the real you died in that cave. I watched my brother die for you. Hodor and Summer, too. I dragged you through the North and you let me go as if we were strangers and meant nothing to one another. _

 

_ My father assured me that this sort of anger could pass if I gave you the opportunity to explain yourself in person. I will arrive in Winterfell a week after you receive this letter. I hope we have a better reunion than we did a departure. _

 

_ Meera _

 

Sansa smiled at Bran who still looked unhappy. “What’s wrong?”

 

“I can’t change the past.”

 

She took a deep breath. “No, you can’t. But you  _ can _ work to make a better future. Be a better man. And consider this: she’s coming.” She held the letter out to him and he took it. “She’s willing to give you a chance at redemption.”

 

“I’m scared, Sansa.”

 

She gave him a pat on the shoulder. “That’s what love feels like,” she said as she walked away to join Brienne, Pod, Tormund and his two girls in the bailey for practice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter:
> 
> MEERA


	76. Meera I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meera gets some sage advice from her father, a letter from Bran, and makes a decision that will change her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like this chapter. 
> 
> Thanks to the lovely sparkles59 for betaing this chapter for me! She's the bestest ever! 
> 
> To the other Tarts, I love you all!

**MEERA**  

The last time she had left Greywater Watch had been with her brother, Jojen. He was convinced they had to find the Stark boy who was learning to fly. It seemed ridiculous to her at the time, but then Jojen had always possessed abilities that she couldn’t understand. He was sickly and needed someone to take care of him. As his sister, someone who loved him, that fell to her.

 

That seemed like a lifetime ago. Now she was out in the woods, snow covering the ground and she remembered when she had come back. Her father had embraced her and told her he knew about Jojen, Summer, Hodor, and Bran. He praised her for her loyalty and even her ability to love. She hadn’t wanted to hear that word. It always left a bad taste in her mouth.

 

She watched a little rodent scurry across the snow, took aim with her bow, and shot it mid-stride. Even hunting left her of thoughts of being in the woods with their small but loyal group. The Wildling, Osha, always there to protect them, teaching her how to do things she thought she knew how to do. Those skills had proven useful over time. Little Rickon and his wildness. The only people around were Osha, Bran, Jojen, Hodor, and her. Having manners meant nothing. So Rickon ran free, his spirit so wonderful to watch because he didn’t know enough to truly be afraid. Hodor with his obedience. The two great wolves, Summer and Shaggydog, bounced around, helping to protect and hunt. 

 

All of them were gone, now. Everyone but her and Bran. She thought that her leaving might have brought out the boy she had once known. Ever since the cave, he’d been different. His emotions seemed to disappear, his affections for others seem to disappear. His reunion with his sister, while it warmed her, had done very little to change his mood. She knew he was focused on the dead army that appeared to be chasing him. Losing her brother had shown her all too well how devastating their numbers could be. Yet, she still wanted a reaction from him, some sort of fond farewell to show that she’d meant  _ something _ to him. 

 

She gathered up her kill and made for the keep. Meera was thankful her father had shielded the keep from the rest of the world. It made things easier. Howland Reed’s power was confusing, even to her. But she knew that Bran couldn’t see her. For that, she was thankful. She hadn’t cried over losing Bran. That seemed to be cold to even think, but she couldn’t mourn someone she’d lost a long time ago. 

 

When she entered the keep, one of the maids took her kill and her heavy cloak. She kicked the ice from her boots before escaping into the moss-covered walls of Greywater Watch. She was nearly to her room when her father’s voice called for her from his study. She pushed the door open and found him standing in the center of the room, his hands behind his back. “You had a good hunt,” he said softly. He’d been watching her.

 

She gave only a small nod before he held out an envelope, the grey wolf of House Stark looking at her. “I don’t want that,” she said, turning her gaze from it. 

 

He took a step toward her and nodded. “I know. I supported your decision the last time to not respond. This time, however, the courier has been told to stay until this is opened and there is a letter from you.” Howland frowned. “The young lord is persistent.”

 

She looked up at her father and tentatively took the envelope. “You know what this letter says?” she questioned. He nodded. “Is...is it worth my time?”

 

He gave her a smile. “I believe it is.”

 

Meera took it from him and then continued down the hall to her bedroom. She removed her bow and quiver and tossed the envelope on the bed. She kicked off the boots, placing them by the fire as she went to her window and watched the marshes sway and move. The land around the keep was as alive as the people inside. There was a reason men feared to pass through. Their people knew how to live amongst the land, how to hide in it, fight with it. Greywater was one of the safest places in the world, yet she couldn’t escape Brandon Stark.

 

She remembered how hollow-eyed he’d looked the last time she’d seen him. He didn’t even look sad to see her go and she knew that he wasn’t. She glared at his letter then, wanting to know why he was writing to her now? She thought she had made herself clear.  _ Leave me be _ . What else needed to be said.

 

She heard a voice in her head calling her a coward. She’d faced down the dead and yet a letter scared her. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and picked up the envelope. She tore through the seal and read over his words.

 

_ Meera, _

 

_ I hope you read this letter. Since the cave, I have been a different person. And since the battle with the dead, I feel the old me coming to the surface. Anger, frustration, sadness are all things that I feel in abundance. I can’t control it, sometimes. I want to feel more. I get flashes of happiness. They’re rare, small, and never last, but there is always a constant: you.  _

 

_ I treated you terribly. I know that. I wish I could have been the person I should have been for you. I wish I could have told you that without you I would have died. I wish, with all that I have in me, that I would have begged you to stay. Having my family back helped me see what I had lost. Those years beyond the wall, you were my family. You were the face I saw when I needed the sun. You were the part inside me that kept me human. Losing you has been a torment. One of my own making. You deserve better than I have shown to you. You deserve better now. _

 

_ I’m not asking you to forgive me. Not through a letter. I’m asking that you give me the opportunity to beg for your forgiveness in person. I will never be deserving of it, but I want it all the same. Please, come to Winterfell. Allow me to try and make amends. Allow me to be the man I should have been when you left. If you choose to leave this time then I want us to part on better terms.  _

 

_ I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I made you feel like it all meant nothing to me. The truth is, it meant everything to me. Please give me the chance to show you. _

 

_ Yours,  _

_ Bran _

 

Meera put it back on the bed and began pacing her room. Every turn she would look at the letter until she finally stopped and groaned in frustration. She went to her writing desk, prepared to tell Bran to leave her alone. But her hand stilled and she hung her head in anger, frustration, and sadness.  _ I get flashes of happiness. They’re rare, small, and never last, but there is always a constant: you.  _

 

She stood and paced again, finding she had too much nervous energy to stay seated for long. She deserved an apology. A real, face-to-face apology from him. She’d never been one to settle for less than what she deserved. And she did care for him. As much as she hated the thought of him, in that moment, she still felt something for him. Not for the three-eyed raven he became. She felt something for the boy that had traveled to the cave with them. The one who played with Summer and talked to her of climbing towers in Winterfell. The one who had been happy to see his Uncle Benjen but just as sad when he’d left them. That was the Bran she missed. 

 

The parchment and quill situated at her desk called to her. She would have to give a written response this time. The courier was told not to leave without one. Meera picked up his letter again and read over it one more time.  _ You _ . She lowered her head, ashamed that she was willing to give in so easily. She gave a shake of her head and folded her arms over her chest. Nothing about this had been easy. She grieved the loss of Jojen, Hodor, and Summer. She grieved the loss of Bran, sometimes, but her anger usually took over. The thought of truly being done, having said goodbye forever made her hurt almost as much as his casual dismissal.

 

He wanted her to let him apologize in person. He had been her friend. He owed her a true apology. She took a deep breath and sat at her writing desk and quickly wrote out the letter, put it in an envelope and sealed it with House Reed’s sigil.

 

She stood and walked down the corridor to find the courier seated at a table in their hall eating. Her father sat across from him and he looked up at her with a small smile. “A week?” Howland questioned.

 

“It will take me that long to get where I’m comfortable leaving.”

 

She handed the letter to the courier who took it and placed it in his satchel at his side. “I’ll leave as soon as I’m done eating this stew your father was kind enough to have brought up.”

 

“Take your time,” Lord Reed said as he stood. “I’m going to speak with my daughter. Have a safe journey to Winterfell.”

 

“Thank you m’lord.”

 

Meera walked with her father back to his study and he closed the door behind them. She sat in one of the chairs in front of the hearth and put her head in her hands. “I’m proud of you.”

 

She frowned and shook her head. “I’m still confused.”

 

“I expect you are. I do think, however, that is best to hear him in person, no matter how difficult. Too much was left unsaid.”

 

“And you believe he is remorseful?”

 

He took a seat beside her and released a deep breath. She could see the lines of worry across his face and when he looked at her, she could clearly see the sadness in his eyes. “Meera, my dear, do you think I would ever willingly allow you to leave again if I didn’t believe in his sincerity? I missed you every day that you were gone and was so relieved when you came home.” He was quiet and looked at his hands. “This can not linger, however. I agreed with your decision to not respond to the first letter because it wasn’t the heartfelt sentiment you deserved.”

 

“His sincerity...”

 

“Is genuine. He’s a sad young man. But he believes that you are the light that his life needs. That’s...a powerful motivator to a father who wants the world for his daughter.”

 

She frowned. “What about Greywater? You need an heir...”

 

“We will discuss that as I grow older. It is not for you to trouble yourself with now.” He gave her a smile. “You should begin packing your things. I think you’ll find Winterfell to be different than when last there.”

 

She stood and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she said before she turned and walked to the door.

 

*~*

 

While snow covered the ground, it was still easy to see the scorched ground beneath her horse’s hooves. The dragons. She would have liked to have seen them. Perhaps, one day, she still might. She approached the gate and two guards stood at the ready. 

 

“What’s your business in Winterfell?”

 

“I was asked to come by Lord Brandon Stark.”

 

“Your name?” The one on the left asked and suddenly he was being shushed by Sansa Stark. The girl looked very different from the last time Meera had seen her. Her bright red hair was tied back in a braid, but the leather jerkin and pants tucked into fur lined boots was a stark contrast to the blue dresses she’d seen. 

 

“She is Lady Meera Reed. She is a guest of Winterfell,” she said as the two guards backed away and let Meera and Sansa both through. She dismounted from her horse and it was taken away and her things were handed off to a maid. “Welcome back, my Lady.”

 

“Meera is fine.”

 

“Sansa,” she said with a nod of her head. “Bran was relieved to receive your letter.”

 

“It was a difficult decision.”

 

Sansa escorted her to the gate of the Godswood. Podrick exited and gave a nod to them both. “He’s sent me to guard the gate. He’s at the heart tree, my Lady.”

 

Meera took a deep breath and stepped inside. She felt her heart racing and sweat forming at her brow. How was it possible to sweat beneath the cold? She walked through the trees and found him in his chair the Maester had made for him. He turned and looked at her as she approached. His expression went from blank to an almost smile. She got closer and stopped a few feet from him, standing between him and the heart tree. His gaze felt penetrating and she didn’t know what to do. 

 

She reached into the pouch at her hip and tossed his letter onto his lap. He touched the edges of it, then up at her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

 

She shifted on her feet and frowned. “I’m undecided.”

 

“We can talk inside if you like,” he offered, and for the first time in a very long while, she thought he looked nervous.

 

“Out here is fine,” she said as she brushed off one of the raised roots and sat in front of him. 

 

She was unsure of what to say next, relieved when he started speaking. “Meera, thank you for coming to Winterfell. I don’t know that I deserve the opportunity to explain myself. I treated you horribly before you left.”

 

She nodded and looked at her gloved hands. “You did.”

 

“I never should have let you leave thinking that I didn’t care.” He looked up at the leaves of the tree and released a deep sigh. “I was seeing so much so fast. I witnessed the murders of my family members, I saw the horrors being played out through the whole world. I had to block out how I felt or I would go mad.” His eyes locked on her. “Unfortunately, I reaped that onto you, too. You deserved better after all we had been through.”

 

She nodded. “I did.” She felt her anger rising up within her and closed her eyes. “I watched Summer die. I watched Hodor die. I had nightmares about that haunt me. And when I came to you, wanting an acknowledgment from  _ you _ , the one person who could understand what it was like to experience that, you...you tossed me aside as if we were strangers!”

 

Bran’s frown deepened and he stared at his hands. “I know. I’m sorry.”

 

“You’re sorry? Jojen and I left our home to find you. To get you to the three-eyed raven. Jojen gave his life because he believed in you...How you could you treat me like that knowing what I lost?”

 

“It’s not a good reason, but I wasn’t really Bran Stark when you left; the Bran you knew was in that cave.” He looked up at her and she could see that he was in pain. “I needed to be something different than Bran Stark. I had to be the Three-Eyed Raven. Unfortunately, that meant I had to make sacrifices.” He looked down at his hands. “I’m glad you weren't here for the battle. The thought that I could have lost you forever, with no hope for a chance at redemption, would have haunted me forever.”

 

“I wanted you to ask me to stay,” she admitted.

 

He looked up at her and she feared for the hope she saw in his eyes. It would be too easy to fall into it and open herself to potentially be hurt again. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t ask you to stay. There was too much at stake. You said you needed to be with your people to help prepare for what was coming.” He took a deep breath. “You knew the danger. You knew what was standing in front of us. If we failed to protect the North, then it would have fallen to the armies South to fight them. Letting you go remains something I don’t regret. I simply regret how I let you leave.”

 

She stood and started pacing, her arms folded over her chest and finally, she stopped directly in front of him. “So, you’ve said your piece. What now?”

 

“I want you to stay in Winterfell. Give me the opportunity to make it up to you. Give me the chance to show you that...not only am I truly sorry for what I did, that I hate I hurt you, but it’s become painfully obvious to me since I started to come back that you were the part of me that I’m missing.”

 

She swallowed thickly, trying to control her warring emotions. She wanted to remain angry. Meera didn’t want to give in so easily. But then she could see how much he meant what he said. “Stay to what purpose and end?” she needed to hear what his plan for the future was. She needed to know if he was certain about what he was saying because she couldn’t stand another disappointment laid at her feet from his lips. If he was going to crush her beneath him again, then it needed to happen now, before she gained too much hope.

 

“Meera, you are what I see when I feel happy. It’s your face. It’s your laugh. It’s watching you shoot your bow. It’s listening to you tell me stories of Greywater and your family. It’s you holding my hand in the middle of the night when one of my visions grew to be too much.” He tilted his head, staring at her intently and she realized she had stopped breathing. “I want you to stay to let me show you what you mean to me. And, if possible, you’re able to forgive me, I would ask that you become my wife.”

 

She took a step back from him, the weight of his words feeling as if they had hit her in the chest. With every moment she took to have a deep breath, she could see his face fall. He didn’t think she would accept and she still didn’t know if she should. Her father had thought this a worthwhile venture. He knew Bran’s intentions. And she knew when she read his second letter what he wanted. She was simply having a hard time believing that this was happening. “I’ll stay.” She watched as a smile slowly stretched across his face and felt the need to caution him. “That doesn’t mean I forgive you or even accept the final part of what you’re saying, but I’m willing to see this through, to whatever end.”

 

Even after all of that, his smile stayed on his face. “I don’t deserve it. But thank you. I’ll do my best to honor you the way you should be, no matter your decision. I will tell you, though, that I don’t remember the last time I felt this happy or had as much hope for the future.”

 

She watched him for a moment before she started around behind him and maneuvered his chair from the Godswood. “Then give me an official tour of your keep, my Lord.”

 

“Bran. To you, I’m always Bran, my Lady.”

 

“Then I’m always Meera to you. Come along. Show me your home as Brandon Stark, Lord of Winterfell.”

 

“It would be my honor.”

 

*~*

 

Meera stood in the bailey watching Brienne train the two little girls, their father, the ginger Wildling she’d come to know as Tormund stood nearby, talking to Sansa and Podrick. She leaned against the wall and watched them. Brienne then called for Sansa to square off against Podrick and the smaller man moved into the center of the field, brandishing his sword. Sansa squared off against him and she advanced first, causing the man to retreat, but soon, he had the Lady of Winterfell dodging his attack from the left. After a few moments, Meera was joined by Tormund as he leaned against the wall beside her. 

 

“I heard that you lived for years beyond the wall in a cave with the Children of the Forest.”

 

Meera looked up at him and nodded. “Yes.”

 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

 

“What?” she furrowed her brow, her head tilted to the side in confusion. 

 

“The North. The complete brutality of it.”

 

She turned and faced him then. “My brother died beyond the wall. We were chased from that cave by the army of the dead. I wouldn’t say anything about it was beautiful.”

 

“You survived. Snow’s brother survived. Could have been worse.” She rolled her eyes and went back to watching them spar. “What’s your weapon of choice?”

 

“Bow, spear, sword if I have to.”

 

“You any good?”

 

“As you said, we survived,” she said softly. She noticed Bran sitting above the bailey and he gave her a small smile. She walked away from Tormund without another word and took the stairs and came to stand beside Bran. His guard, Riff, moved away to give them a bit of privacy and Meera leaned against the railing. “Your sister is getting better with her sword every time I watch her.”

 

“Brienne is a fine teacher.”

 

“She’s with that Wildling?”

 

“Yes. And those are his two daughters. Their mother died.”

 

“It would appear that everyone’s mother is gone,” she said softly. She looked over at him. “What about you? Practiced with your bow, lately?”

 

Bran shook his head and frowned. “No. But I have used a sword in the recent past.”   
  


“A sword? For what purpose?” she asked, leaning her back to the rail and looking down at him. The darkness she saw in his eyes worried her. It was obvious she felt a lot of anger about things he’d seen and had happened. She even noticed that he clenched his fists on the arms of his chair.

 

“We had a traitor who was sending our secrets to Cersei. She’s called for Sansa’s head because of it.” He looked back at the ground where Sansa twirled with her hair fanning out around her as she blocked Podrick’s sword, then rolled across the ground to avoid the follow through. “I saw who it was and I executed him with Brienne’s sword.”

 

Meera tilted her head as she watched him and folded her arms over her chest. “Why does Cersei want Sansa’s head? Only hers?”

 

Bran shook his head. “She wants us all dead. But she promised a lordship and a castle to the man who brought her Sansa’s. All because of Sansa and Jaime Lannister.”

 

“That’s...the queen’s brother?”

 

“The brother that fathered her children. He’s also the one who pushed me out of the tower and left me a cripple.”

 

Meera looked back at Sansa, a frown on her face. “And your sister had something...with him? How could she?”   
  


“It was unintended,” he admitted with a sigh. “And I hate to say it, but he was good to her. Treated her like she deserved. He loves her.”

 

“And you’re alright with this?”   
  


“Absolutely not,” he said vehemently. “If Jaime Lannister sets foot in the North, I’ll take his head as well.” Meera was shocked by the anger in his voice, even though she felt it for him. He seemed to calm and she watched as he turned eyes back to Sansa. “Even so, I still hate it for Sansa.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because, she deserves to be happy, and Jaime made her happy.”

 

Meera contemplated this for a moment, then gave him a small smile. “You’re a good brother.”

 

He looked up at her, his brows knit together in confusion. “You almost sound surprised.”   
  


“Considering how I left you, it is,” she reminded. “But it’s nice to see a return of the person who cared for his family. I remember you with Rickon. How you cared for him. I was afraid that part of you was gone.”

 

“It’s returning,” he said softly. “Not as quickly as I would like.”

 

“We’ll get Riff to move your chair down there and you can practice with your bow.”

 

He looked away from her and shook his head. “I’m afraid that would look rather horrible. I haven’t touched a bow in a long time.”

 

“All the more reason for you to do so, now. Let your people see that you’re more than just the Lord in his chair. You’re a Stark of Winterfell. If your sister can train with a sword, your brother can be King of the Seven Kingdoms, and your other sister can be a Faceless Man, then you can be an expert bowman.”

 

Bran gave her a small smile. “You’ve convinced me.” He tilted his head at her, his dark eyes staring into hers and she nearly squirmed beneath his gaze. “You’ll help me?”

 

She nodded to Riff who came to push Bran’s chair. “Of course. I can’t have people thinking that I’m allowing you to stiffel at the task.”

 

She heard his small chuckle. “Of course not.”

 

Riff and one of the guards hauled Bran’s chair down the stairs and she pushed him in front of the target. “Perhaps you should consider having some sort off ramps built through the castle to help you get around better.”

 

Bran nodded. “I’ve been working on plans with Sansa. I hate being so dependent on people.”

 

She handed him a bow and set a quiver of arrows by his side. She removed hers from her back, knocked an arrow against the strings, pulled back, and released, letting the arrow fly to the center of the smallest circle.

 

She smiled down at Bran with smug satisfaction, and he rolled his eyes. “Show off,” he muttered, but she could see the hint of a smile around his eyes and lips. “This is probably going to look bad.”

 

“Oh, no doubt it will. But that’s why it will be important that you practice. And you have an expert teacher.”

 

Bran pulled back the arrow, held it for a moment and let it go. It hit the second to largest circle and she saw the disappointment on his face and quickly lunged in to assuage him. “You hit the target.”

 

“Outside of the main one.”

 

Meera smiled. “But you still hit the target. Won’t take long until you can hit the center if we get you trained properly.”

 

He took another arrow and drew it back with his bow. Meera pushed down on his shoulder at the same time she pulled up on his elbow. She adjusted his hand on the arrow. “Release when you exhale.” He took a deep breath and let the arrow go. He was closer to the center and he smiled. “There. See? Already an improvement.”

 

He looked up at her, the look in his eyes causing her stomach to roll around and her heart to beat beneath her chest. “Yes. A vast improvement,” he said softly.

 

*~*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, let me know what you think. Like it, hate it, why am I even bothering?
> 
> I believe the next chapter of this is Jon. I'm not home so I can't check my outline, but I'm fairly certain it's Jon, and if it is, then Daenerys will get to see what happens to a city when Dragons descend on it. That's right, they're arriving at Harrenhal.


	77. Jaime XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans for Harrenhal and the Lannister forces there, drinking games with Tyrion, and not all things go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick Recap: Sansa is supportive of Jon and Dany as King and Queen of Westeros. She was very nice to Daenerys as Daenerys was very nice to her. They somewhat confided in one another. Jaime arrives at Winterfell without the Lannister army because of Cersei. Sansa threatens to take his head, especially after Bran reveals that Jaime is the one that pushed him from the tower. Jon lets Bran decide and he chooses to let him live. Sansa is livid. Jaime and Sansa continue to find themselves alone and arguing, but one night Sansa is attacked by one of the dead and Jaime saves her life. She's conflicted. Jaime nearly loses his arm in the final battle and Sansa sits by his bedside even though she can't explain why. Jaime finds out that Cersei lied about being pregnant and turns to the one person who is always brutally honest with him: Sansa. Sansa gets upset because feels like Jaime is trying to replace Cersei with her. Not the case, but it takes Tyrion to convince him to be honest. When he is, he finds out that Sansa wants him. She's still timid about being intimate but shows Jaime some of the scars that Ramsay left her with. They grow closer emotionally and physically. Jon and Bran are firmly against it. Sansa tells Jaime that when he leaves to go south it's done as she is going to stay on as Lady of Winterfell. They spend the night together and she bids him farewell the next day. Jaime is involved in the Battle at the Twins and saves Daenerys's life. Jaime and Tyrion continue to try and mend their relationship. Sansa helps Bran mend his relationship with Meera and Brienne and Tormund. 
> 
> A/N: Phew! I've been working on this chapter for a few days now. 
> 
> Thanks to justwanderingneverlost for the gorgeous mood board as well as the beta on this chapter.
> 
> As usual, please don't bitch about the pairings. I'll listen to complaints about characterization or even plot, but pairings...those are clearly marked and we're 77 chapters in. I won't entertain them.

 

The air in the tent had become uncomfortable as the queen and Tyrion argued over the best strategy of how to handle the troops in Harrenhal. They were Lannister forces, those lucky enough to not be at the battle near black water that fateful day all those months ago. He looked at the queen, her eyes locked on his brother, and remembered the fear and anger that coursed through his blood. It was one thing to see the Dothraki army screaming at them with a force they couldn’t hope to match, but when the dragon had crested the hill, his loud roar echoing over everything, he was sure his heart had stopped. With only one dragon she had devastated his forces. And the rest of her fighting force, the Unsullied and her  _ other _ dragons weren’t even in play. If he knew now what he’d known then, he would have thrown up the white flag. So many lives were lost that day, and he still ended up fighting beside her and her king against the dead and now marched south to get rid of his sister. 

 

He knew that news of their victory over the small contingent of the Golden Company had already reached King’s Landing. Varys’s spies were still very much in play. But word had also reached them that she had offered a castle and a knighthood for Sansa’s head. That angered him. He had left her and yet she still might suffer the wrath of his sister. He was once again reminded that Sansa deserved better than him. 

 

He shook his head to clear it. Thinking of her and what future  _ might _ have been possible was a game he only indulged in when alone and drunk. He refocused on the conversation being had.

 

“You are not going to send Jon and a small force into Harrenhal to negotiate terms. And you are not going either. You’re my Hand.”

 

Tyrion exhaled in frustration. “It should be the king! They will respect his word because he’s a warrior.”

 

Everyone seemed to shift on their feet, even Tyrion, when the words came from his lips. If anyone ever questioned the power the Dragon Queen could command, the look she was giving Tyrion now silenced all of them. “And what am I? A farm girl? A scullery maid? Did I not fight in the war against the dead?” Her voice was low, but that did nothing to hide the venom behind the words. 

 

“Your Grace...I didn’t mean...” his brother stammered to clarify, but even Jaime could see that he’d already put his foot in his mouth and it would be best to stop talking.

 

“What did you mean, Lord Tyrion?” Her voice was dangerously calm and he wondered if she would have him dragged out and fed to Drogon. 

 

Luckily for Tyrion, Jon spoke then. “Your Grace, given your history with Lord Tyrion, I would suggest that the disrespectful words he just said to you came out of his mouth before he could properly think them through.” He took a deep breath and looked at Tyrion who actually looked terrified but gave Jon a grateful nod. 

 

Daenerys still glared at Tyrion, but turned her attention to the others in the tent. Her eyes landed on him and he was almost afraid that it would be guilty by association, however, she tilted her head as she stared at him. “I will concede that Jon go into the keep with Ser Jaime, three of my kos, and three men from the North, of your choosing, my king,” she said as she glanced back at Jon who gave her a nod.

 

Everyone suddenly turned their attention to him and he gave a nod. “If that is your command.”

 

“It is. You led the men at Black Water against me. These are your kin and if they will respect  _ warriors _ ,” she cast her eyes at Tyrion briefly as she said the word, then her eyes were boring into him once more, “then who better than the eldest son of Tywin Lannister to convince them that fighting for your sister is fruitless and deadly?”

 

He nodded. “I do think you can have a part in this, Your Grace,” he offered to her, knowing that she hated being left out, but everyone in the room agreed that she should be outside the keep with the dragons and the rest of her men. “Nothing will chill the men in  _ that _ particular keep more than to see the dragons flying overhead. It’s easy for the men garrisoned there to forget that the reason the castle is a burnt out shell is because of dragons. I believe we should remind them.”

 

Daenerys gave a small smile and nodded. “I like that idea,” she said and turned to Jon. “Make them see reason.”

 

Jon nodded and she looked around at their gathered assembly tiredly. “We have a long day tomorrow. Everyone get some rest.” People began leaving, but then her voice rang out. “Tyrion. Stay.”

 

The two brothers exchanged a look before he ducked out of the tent, leaving Tyrion to his fate. He was walking toward his own tent when a voice stopped him. “Ser Jaime.” He turned to see the king approach.

 

Jaime glanced back at the royal tent and smirked. “Aren’t you afraid she might feed him to the dragons?”

 

Jon gave a slight smile. “Siblings fight. She sees him as the brother she always wanted,” Jon explained. “That doesn’t mean he can’t say something stupid to rile her up.”

 

He nodded and looked down at the ground. “Is there something you wanted, Your Grace?”

 

Jon nodded. “I’m going with you into Harrenhal, but I think you should be the one to submit our terms. You’re one of them. It makes sense that you should be the one to speak, convince them that we don’t want a fight. Anything they counter with, I’ll address.”

 

Jaime gripped the hilt of his sword and looked around for a moment, then back at the king. He remembered all too well how he’d mocked him when he’d been a young man going to The Wall. Now, Jon Snow had been revealed to be Aegon Targaryen, was married to the Dragon Queen, and marching toward King’s Landing to take it from his mad sister. “I’ll follow your lead on that, Your Grace.”

 

The young king looked at him with apprehension and then spoke softly, “Tyrion told you of the threat to Sansa from your sister?”

 

“He did,” Jaime said as he looked at the ground. “Any word from Winterfell?”

 

“Bran saw the traitor in his visions and executed him. Sansa is still training with Brienne and they all have more guards.”

 

Jaime felt the weight of his guilt hanging around his shoulders.“I’m sorry, Your Grace.”

 

Jon tilted his head and watched him for a moment. “For which part? That your secret relationship wasn’t as secret as it  _ needed _ to be or that she’s now in danger because of it?”

 

“Both. Sansa deserves...better.”

 

“Well, it’s good to know we agree on something.”

 

Jaime heaved a sigh, feeling the need to defend himself but unsure why. “I would have married her. I mentioned it. But she sent me South and she meant for that to be permanent.”

 

Jon watched him for a moment and he felt uncomfortable under his dark gaze. And then, like the flash of a blade, a thought seemed to occur to the young king. “You love her.” It was a statement, not a question.

 

He gave a slow nod, admitting to someone besides his own brother his true feelings for Sansa. “I do. It doesn’t matter, though. She believes her duty to the North comes before everything, including her happiness. I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone as selfless as she is. Rather remarkable in our world.”

 

Jaime’s attention turned to Tyrion who was approaching slowly. “I see you survived.”

 

“Today,” Tyrion said a bit sheepish. He took a deep breath and looked up at Jon. “The queen asked that if I saw you that I sent you back to her.”

 

Jon glanced at the tent. “And what sort of mood did you leave my wife?”

 

“Appeased,” he said with a bit of a smile. “But then she could set me on fire whenever she likes, so, that could change.”

 

They both watched Jon as he entered the tent with his queen. Jaime then looked at his brother, a small smile on his face. “How bad was it?”

 

“Let me just say that if Rhaegal decides to begin gnawing on me, I would probably enjoy it more. I didn’t mean she wasn’t a warrior,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

 

“She’s pregnant and is known for having a temper. You’re lucky she didn’t have Jon kill you.”

 

“Oh, I believe she would be fully capable of killing me herself,” he said as he entered his tent. Jaime followed. He poured them both wine, but Tyrion was already pouring a second glass for himself by the time he had lifted his cup. 

 

“Jon said she thinks of you as her brother,” he remarked, wondering what Tyrion’s reaction would be. “One she always wanted.”

 

He smiled, and it might have been one of the most pure smiles he’d ever seen on Tyrion’s face. “It’s funny, I think of her the same way. The  _ sister _ I always wanted.”

 

Jaime sighed. “Speaking of sisters...”

 

“Oh, must we talk about her?”

 

“No. We can sit in silence.”

 

Tyrion scrunched up his nose and frowned at Jaime. “You know why I don’t like drinking with you? I know all there is to know so I can’t play one of my favorite drinking games.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“I state a fact about you, and if I’m right, you drink. If I’m wrong, I drink.”

 

Jaime shrugged. “What else do we have to do?”

 

“I know too much about you for it to be fun.”

 

He humored his brother. “I’ll go first. You...like Daenerys more than you like Jon.”

 

Tyrion tilted his head and made a face as he thought about it, then drank. “But I have reasons. She trusted me and let me live when she didn’t have to. Even when she’s disagreed with me she still listened. And to be perfectly shallow, she’s prettier than he is,” he said with a chuckle and Jaime rolled his eyes as he laughed. “Alright, my turn.” Tyrion watched him for a moment, then looked down into his wine. “You aren’t sure you’ll be able to kill Cersei.”

 

It was a fear that nagged at him constantly, and so, in the spirit of honesty, he drank. Tyrion rolled his eyes. “What would she actually have to do? Is there a crime she could commit?”

 

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t. I’m...unsure, though. It eats at me, Tyrion.” He rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. “I know what she’s done, what she would do. I loved her for so long and even though I know everything...there’s still a part of me that cares for her. She had my children...”

 

“Do you think she ever loved you the way you loved her? When was she ever  _ faithful _ to you?”

 

“She was married.”

 

“Does that explain her taking Lancel to her bed while you were held captive by the Starks? When you lost your hand, she probably had him between her thighs...”

 

Tyrion grew silent immediately as Jaime turned cold eyes onto him. “Do not continue on with this topic unless you want to lose your own hands.” Jaime downed the rest of his wine and stood. 

 

“Don’t leave. Please.” Jaime hesitated only because Tyrion sounded almost desperate, obviously realizing his mistake. “I’m sorry. It’s my own bitterness because of the hold she always had over you. Your devotion to her was never deserved on her part. It still...hurts me to see you tormented by her.”

 

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about her,” he said, still ready to flee to his own tent.

 

“Fine. I won’t speak another word about her.”

 

At that, Jaime sat down and Tyrion refilled his glass. “My turn.”

 

*~*

 

Jaime hated Tyrion and his drinking games. The sun was shining high in the sky, no clouds in sight to give his headache a reprieve. The movement of the army had his ears ringing. And the trotting of his horse was making his rolling stomach ready to pitch. He wanted to punch his brother in the face, but knew the extra movement would only serve to make his hangover worse. The maker of his torment was riding along beside him and held out a wineskin.

 

“I’ve had quite enough wine,” Jaime replied.

 

Tyrion shrugged and took a swig. “Yet, you’re feeling like shit and I’m perfectly fine. Why do you think that is?”

 

“Experience,” he said, but hoped the conversation would end soon. 

 

“No. I’m smart enough to always drink in the morning.”

 

Jaime thought it was horrible advice, but his head hurt too much to argue. He took the wineskin from his brother and took a swig, then handed it back to Tyrion. Jon pulled up on the other side of Jaime, several Dothraki warriors filling the space behind them. 

 

“She’s already in the air?” Tyrion asked and the dragons roared overhead as they flew toward the burnt out keep. 

 

“Shall we?” Jon asked Jaime as Tyrion held up the rest of the army.

 

It had been decided that three of the kos and three of the Northmen would go into the keep with them. Everyone else would stand in formation outside the keep, Daenerys and her Unsullied and the Northmen in the forefront. It would make more of an impact now that she was on dragonback. 

 

Jon had foregone his usual cloak, dressed for battle rather than peace negotiations. The rest of their party joined them and a white flag was held up, signaling peace. They rode to the entrance of the keep. Jaime hadn’t been here since he had rescued Brienne from the bear. They were met at the front gate by the leader of the Lannister force, Daven Lannister. His cousin. His hair and beard were even longer than when he last saw him. He was flanked by three men on each side that looked vaguely familiar. Daven was the first to speak, “I never would have thought you’d be the traitor to treat with us. I thought it would be your little brother who talks too much.”

 

Jaime gave him a baleful look and shook his head. “Tyrion is here, but he’s smart enough not to attempt coming near this fortress. Too broken up and filled with green boys looking to make a name for themselves by killing the Queen's brother out of some foolish notion that she’d give them a castle.”

 

“Yet, you come in here with a  _ Stark _ ? Apologies, is it  _ Targaryen  _ now?”

 

He looked up as Rhaegal perched on the wall of the keep and roared. Jaime knew the dragon felt the threat. “I don’t think he cared for your tone,” Jon said firmly. “We’re here to discuss surrender.”

 

“Yours to us?”

 

Jaime shook his head as Jon rolled his eyes, and the king was the one to speak, “Don’t be fools. We have an army that would run through yours like water. The Dothraki alone would show you how inadequate you are.”

 

Jaime nodded and followed it up with, “I’ve fought them. They fight for sport. For fun. Dying means nothing to them. The Unsullied, they’re the only force alive that’s been known to repel the Dothraki.”

 

“And then you have the North,” Jon added. “A hearty group who would  _ love  _ to kill Lannister soldiers for the atrocities caused to our people and lands.” Jon narrowed his eyes a bit. “And let’s not forget,” he said, his voice low, as Rhaegal climbed down the castle wall and stood behind them, “two dragons. This is the smaller one. My wife’s dragon...well, I don’t think you would survive meeting him.”

 

Devan took a moment to look at the assembled men in front of them and then at the men flanking him. When he spoke, Jaime could still hear venom in his voice if not a bit of apprehension. “You want us to surrender? And what?”

 

“Join us to fight against my sister. Many of you have families,” Jaime said louder, making sure his voice carried to the men looking on from behind Devan. “The sooner this war ends, the sooner you can return to them. Make the smart decision and bend the knee to the rightful King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

 

Daven shook his head. “I’ll not join the family that killed my father. The Starks can all hang–”

 

“Then they will be the family that killed you,” Jaime asserted. “There is no scenario in which you don’t surrender. You do this peacefully and the dragons won’t finish off the rest of the keep and you’ll only meet the Dothraki, Unsullied and Northmen as allies.  _ Refuse _ ...that is not a situation you want to be in.”

 

“Yet you ride in here with the  _ King _ .” Devan looked around. “It would appear to me that once again, your brother is the smart one by not coming into this keep.”

 

It was then Jaime saw the archers and watched helplessly as their arrows came flying through the air. Before they fell, however, there was a darkness that covered them and a great roar. Rhaegal had shielded them with his body. Beneath the dragon, the heat was almost unbearable as it spit fire on those before them. They soon heard Drogon’s roars and Rhaegal flew off as Jamie looked around to see people burning on nearly every wall. He drew his sword as they took on the men coming at them. 

 

The men stood in a circle and fought them off from every side. One of the kos fell behind them and their circle closed in. Rhaegal lifted a man running at him from his feet, chomping through him, sending the bottom half of his body to the ground to lie in a bloody heap. Jaime sliced through a soldier and ducked in time for Jon’s sword to cut the head off of another charging his right side.

 

It didn’t take long for the Unsullied to move inside the gates and soon have the rest of the Lannister army kneeling in front of them. Daenerys landed inside the walls, Drogon’s great roar and larger presence causing those who remained to drop their swords and take a knee.

 

She ordered the Unsullied to sweep the castle for another ambush, but she stayed seated atop her dragon. “Negotiations fell apart?” She questioned.

 

“Not even dragons can make some people see reason,” Jaime quipped, knowing she remembered all those months ago how he’d been a fool with a spear, charging at her while Drogon was still very much alive and able to protect her. 

 

She rolled her eyes, but he could still see a smile playing at her lips. “Let’s get the fires put out, tend to the wounded, and then meet with the remaining army. I’d like to see if they are as stupid as those that died fighting you.”

 

*~*

 

Jaime surveyed the men and took a deep breath. They all seemed so young. Then again, perhaps he was just old. Past his prime and unable to flight like he once was able. They had been patched up, a few had blood seeping through bandages, but seemed no worse for the wear. He’d cleaned the blood and ash from his own face, after receiving remarks from Tyrion about the ashes making him look like their father. 

 

He stood beside Tyrion and Missandei as Jon and Daenerys approached. The two dragons lounged on the walls behind them. Well, as much of their bodies that could fit on the walls. Quite a bit hung off for both. 

 

Daenerys addressed the crowd, then. “This is a hard decision for all of you, I’m sure. You can believe the lies that Cersei has fed you or you can risk following a new King and Queen. We’re not asking you to forfeit titles or land. We’re asking you to allow us to prove that we’re a great deal better than what has come before. She is kin to some of you. Her two brothers stand by our side as allies.” She paused for a moment letting that sink in. “You have a choice, bend the knee, or die.”

 

Jaime was relieved to see all of them kneel in front of their new King and Queen, and he smiled at a few of them. Jon was the next to speak. “Rise. We’ll rest here only for the night. If you are too injured to march, let one of the Maesters know. We urge you to mingle among our camp, learn from the people you will be joining, and steer clear of the dragons.”

 

Daenerys approached with a slight smile. “These are a great deal smarter than the last army of Lannisters I met.”

 

“Being decimated by a dragon and three armies can make a man reevaluate his situation.”

 

She kept her hands folded in front of her and looked at the young boys that mingled around them. Her Unsullied guard stayed close to them, mistrustful as they should be. “Jon says you did well.”

 

He glanced over that the king who was speaking with Tyrion and Davos, then back to her. “He’s rather intimidating when he wants to be.”

 

She nodded and tilted her head. “Most of the time, though, he doesn’t want to be.”

 

“His father was the same way,” he said softly. “Rhaegar knew he was going to inherit the Seven Kingdoms, but he kept his eyes on the prophecy and let them wander too far.”

 

Daenerys looked over at Jon, then. “A blessing and a curse. You knew my brother well?”

 

He chuckled as they walked back to the field where the tents were being set up. “I did. I worshiped him. Rhaegar would have been a good king.” He glanced at her. “You’ll be a better queen.”

 

She stopped and looked at him, a curious expression on her face. “Why do you say that?”

 

“You’re not...content with how things are. You seek to change them, to give more power to the people you govern. I feel like that is something only you would advocate.”

 

She pursed her lips, then smiled. “Thank you.” They continued to walk and she took a deep breath. “I had a conversation with my husband about you last night.”

 

“That couldn’t have gone well.”

 

“Better than you think. Realizing that you were in love with Sansa was rather eye opening to him.”

 

“Why?”

 

She put a hand on top of her growing belly and sighed. “I don’t think he ever contemplated that you might  _ love _ her. Only that you might be out for your own...satisfaction.”

 

He snorted and shook his head. “Far from it, Your Grace.”

 

“What would you like to happen after the war?”

 

“Ideally?” She nodded and he answered without question. “Ride North, marry Sansa, and find somewhere to live together. Wherever would make her happy.”

 

“And what if I could give you part of that?”

 

Jaime stopped walking this time. “Why would you?”

 

She heaved another sigh. “I don’t think you’re an evil man, Jaime. I think you’ve made some horrible decisions that you have to live with, but you’re not evil. You’ve tried to keep your word to Jon and I. You fought alongside us in the war and nearly died. You saved Sansa’s life. You saved Tyrion’s life. And most recently, you saved mine.” She frowned and looked down at her hands. “I have asked that Jon consider a pardon. I don’t know if he’ll agree. But continue to be a man of your word, one we can trust, and it will certainly help.”

 

Jaime stared at her for a moment and felt hope blooming in his heart. “I don’t deserve it.”

 

“Perhaps not. Then again, Jon and I are out to make a new world. New beginnings. Perhaps you can have one as well.” 

 

She drew in a deep breath and rubbed over her stomach again. “Are you alright?” he asked.

 

She nodded. “Tired. And I currently have what I believe is a foot pressing into my ribs.”

 

Jaime smiled at her pleased expression. “I’ll escort you back to your tent, Your Grace.”

 

“Thank you, Ser Jaime, but I’ll take her back,” Jon said as he joined them. “Well fought today.”

 

He smiled and nodded. “I wish I still had my hand if, for no other reason, than to see how good I would be against you.”

 

Daenerys looped her hand through Jon’s arm and she nodded. “I’m sure that would have been a fight to see.”

 

The two walked off together and he was soon joined by Tyrion. Neither said anything as they walked among the tents and he found his already set up and all his things unloaded into it. His brother gave him a smile. “The Dothraki admire how you fight with one hand.”

 

“So does the king, apparently.”

 

Tyrion took a deep breath. “How quickly did they turn on you inside the walls?”

 

“Long enough for their archers to get in place. Thank the gods for that dragon. He was our shield,” he admitted as they both moved inside and Jaime removed his pauldrons. He felt the blood moving down his arm then, unaware he’d even been hit. 

 

Tyrion looked on in concern. “You’re injured. Wait, I’ll get the maester.”

 

He shook his head and rolled his eyes. “I’m fine. Just pour some of the wine on it and bandage it up for me?”

 

“I don’t have any bandages,” he said firmly, holding out his hands as if to display just that.

 

He grabbed one of his satchels and tossed it to Tyrion. “There are some in there.”

 

Tyrion opened the satchel and removed the pieces of gauzy linen as Jaime removed his armor, used to doing so with one arm by now. He pulled his bloody tunic over his head and allowed his brother to dress his wound, only wincing as the wine was poured over the cut. “That doesn’t hurt?” his brother asked.

 

Jaime shook his head. “Have your hand removed and then have the rotting dead tissue scraped away. That’s pain. This is scratch.”

 

His brother frowned and shook his head. “I’m so very sorry that happened to you. I’m not sure I ever told you.”

 

“You did,” he said softly. “When I arrived back in King’s Landing, I think you were the only person actually happy to see me.”

 

Tyrion gave him a smile and tied off the bandage. “That will do for now, but promise you will at least have Samwell take a look at the wound to make sure it doesn’t grow infected.”

 

“I promise.”

 

He eyed him for a moment. “Is this a real promise or is this like when you would jump from the cliffs at Casterly Rock after you  _ promised  _ not to?”

 

Jaime chuckled. “I suppose you can always check behind me to make sure I do what I say.”

  
“You’re a grown man, Jaime. I shouldn’t have to check behind you.”

 

He leaned back in his chair and heaved a sigh. “But you will anyway.”

 

Tyrion smirked then. “See, we do know one another too well.”


	78. Jon XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new ally might bring some helpful news. Daenerys takes umbrage with how she's being treated as a pregnant woman. Jon gains a new perspective on what's important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've had the end of this chapter written for a while, I just had to write the beginning to back into it.
> 
> Thank you to Justwanderingneverlost for the GORGEOUS mood board and for betaing this chapter for me. Believe me, if it's any good, that goes to her. I can't wait to see how you guys like it. The Red Keep is in sight. 
> 
> Thoughts and prayers go out to allegre17. You're a strong and courageous fighter and I have faith that you will soon get to read this chapter that I dedicate to you. To your fighting spirit, your fighting body, and your fighting mind, from my soul to yours, I have faith in you.

 

Since dismounting, Jon and Daenerys had taken the time to meet with some of the new Lannister men that had joined their ranks. He’d been rather impressed with the idea from his wife who still took it upon herself to walk amongst the Dothraki and the Unsullied.

 

He knew the real reason. Daenerys needed to stretch her legs after spending much of the day on horseback. She was now big enough that riding was causing her a lot of physical pain. Tyrion had made the mistake of suggesting she ride in a carriage. Jon grew more worried every day that she might kill her Hand. He knew her well enough to keep suggestions for what she should do to himself. He did not favor being on the poor side of his wife’s temper.

 

Most of the soldiers were green boys sent off to fight in wars their family couldn’t. They appeared to be intimidated at first, none expecting to find the King and Queen walking through their camp to talk to them. But it gave Jon insight that some of them were there for the promise of money for their families. How many men were fighting in the war for that reason, he wondered?

 

It was walking amongst the camp of the Lannisters that they heard a rather interesting conversation about Cersei. “She’s trying to figure out where all her wildfire has gone.” 

 

Jon stopped and Daenerys did as well, the four men sitting around the fire going silent when they realized they were there. He was the first to speak. “The Wildfire is disappearing?”

 

The young man who had been talking nodded but didn’t look at them. “Yes, Your Grace. There were big piles of it under Flea Bottom but now only half that. One part is completely empty of it.”

 

“How do you know this?” Daenerys asked. Her hand gripped his arm tighter. It was almost too good to be true. 

 

“My father is part of the pyromancers. They got no idea where it went.”

 

Jon sighed. “Why is he still in the city?”

 

“She closed the gates to anyone that’s not a soldier.”

 

Daenerys frowned. “She’s trapped them,” she said as she looked at Jon. 

 

“I’m afraid so, Your Grace. I joined the army hoping to get my father out as payment. They made me leave the next day.” He was quiet for a moment then looked up at them with hope and fear in his eyes. “You’re not going to blow up the city, are you?”

 

Daenerys shook her head. “We want to save the city. Not see it in ruins,” she said softly. “What is your name?”

 

“Arthur, Your Grace.”

 

“Arthur, how well do you know the tunnels under the city?” Jon asked. 

 

“Played in them my whole life.”

 

Jon nodded and looked over his shoulder at his Hand. “Ser Davos, would you take Arthur here and get him some parchment and a quill to draw us a detailed map of the underground? Any entrances in and out of the city we’ll need clearly marked.”

 

Arthur stood and followed Davos away from the group he’d been with. Jon gave them a half smile before he spoke. “I don’t suppose any of you know any back entrances into the Red Keep that might be useful.”

 

There were echoes of  _ no _ around the fire and Daenerys smiled at them. She turned to one of the attendants following them and ordered, “See to it that these men have a cask of wine each for allowing us to borrow their companion for a while.”

 

The men smiled at that and gave hearty thanks to the King and Queen. They continued walking, Tyrion and their guard following close behind. Daenerys looked at Tyrion. “I take it that the person responsible is the one we made contact with while at Winterfell.”

 

“Of course. If a green seer says something as important as  _ that _ I will find a way to use it to our advantage.”

 

“What’s happening to the Wildfire?”

 

“It’s being disposed of.”

 

“Where it can't hurt anyone?” She asked.

 

“You have my word.”

 

“We can’t get to King's Landing fast enough,” she said softly. “She’s locked the people into the city.” 

 

Jon could see the concern written on her face and he covered her hand that was resting on his arm. “We’ll save them,” he assured her.

 

She was quiet for a few moments and gently tugged on his arm, urging him back toward their tent. “Tyrion, we’re going to turn in for the evening. I’m tired and hungry.”

 

Jon shared a smile with Tyrion who gave them a nod. “Of course, Your Grace. Sleep well.”

 

As they reached their tent, Drogon released a purr and nudged her gently with his snout. She stopped for a moment and rubbed her hands along his face, resting her head against his. “My beautiful children,” she murmured as Rhaegal nudged her as well. Jon thought they probably sensed her bad mood and were trying to cheer her up. He called over one of the guards. “Have her tub brought and filled. And find Missandei.”

 

The guard walked away from him to do his bidding and when he turned he found Daenerys seated on the ground with Drogon’s large head resting on her lap and Rhaegal’s tail wrapped around her. She was smiling a real smile for the first time that day. 

 

He chuckled to see her on the grass, cooing at her children. “How did you get down there?”

 

She looked up at him, amusement written over her face in her raised brows and bright smile. “I sat.”

 

As he came closer, Rhaegal nudged him and he reached out to pet him.  _ Her? _ The dragon was having eggs, they’d confirmed that. But he was curious as to whether or not Rhaegal was still considered a male. He thought to ask, but seeing the happy look on Daenerys face, he decided to leave it.

 

He scratched the dragon beneath its neck and pressed another hand just below its eye. “How are you doing today?” The dragon blinked at him and Jon felt the dizziness of the connection between him and the dragon. He knew it didn’t compare to that of Daenerys and Drogon, but the emerald dragon’s tittering set him at ease. 

 

Daenerys made a soft noise and he looked down at her and followed her eyes to see men carrying in her tub. 

 

“Do I get a bath?”

 

“I figured the hot water would help with the aching,” he explained. “I’ve sent for Missandei so she can get it how you like.”

 

“And here I am, Your Grace.” Missandei approached, an easy smile on her face. Water was now being carried into the tent and he helped Daenerys to her feet. 

 

“Guard us well, my loves,” Daenerys said with one last pet to each dragon before being led into their tent.

 

Jon guided her into their tent and sat her at the table as water was still being hauled in. “Eat while we wait.”

 

He watched her pick at the assortment of food they’d been brought. She seemed most interested in the rabbit stew and bread. By the time they finished filling her tub, she had finished her first helping. Jon continued to eat as Missandei poured oils into the water, the scent carrying over that of the food and reminding him of his wife. 

 

Missandei then helped her unravel her hair. “Do you want me to come back in and braid it for you before bed?”

 

“No. My head needs a break,” she said with a smile. “Have them come to remove the food. Once I finish with my bath, I’m going to bed.”

 

Jon nodded that he was finished as well. The attendants came to take the food away and he walked to the flap of the tent and threaded it closed once Missandei had left. He turned at the splashing of the water and watched Daenerys settle herself into the hot water. “I should have had Missandei stay to help me wash my hair,” she groaned, pulling the already wet tresses around in front of her. 

 

“Let me serve you, my queen,” he said with a smile and pulled the small footstool to sit behind her. He also took up the empty water pitcher from beside the tub. He placed a kiss at her temple as she sat forward and lifted the pitcher, pouring water over her head, minding her eyes. Her hair all wet, he picked up the first bottle and poured some into his hand then began working it through her tresses. 

 

“Do you think Arthur will be able to give us an entrance into the city without having to go by water?”

 

“Perhaps,” she answered. “I’m not certain that will be the safest option, though. If the Wildfire is disappearing, and they know about it, how long until there are guards beneath the city?”

 

Jon finally worked the soap down to the ends of her hair. He picked up the pitcher again to rinse it out. Daenerys hummed happily at each pass of water over her head. When he finished he lifted the other bottle but she caught his hand. “That’s for when I’m done,” she explained. She lay her head back against the rim and looked up at him, a serene smile on her face. He could see her hands moving over her swollen belly beneath the water and he moved to sit beside her. His hand dipped beneath the water and joined hers. She laced their fingers together and huffed out a breath. “The bath was a wonderful idea.”

 

Jon gave her a small smile before his thoughts turned darker. “I know you’re in pain and you aren’t saying anything. You’re riding through it and I wish you wouldn’t.”

 

She shook her head. “We are marching toward a goal, Jon. I'm not going to stop or withdraw because I ache a little.”

 

“A little?” He asked incredulously. “You’re always in pain, Dany. Whether it’s your hips, your back, your thighs, your arse...you are always in pain.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “I have two babes inside of me. They’re moving around, getting bigger. What did you think was going to happen?”

 

“I didn’t expect to see you hurting with no ability to help you.”

 

She chuckled but there was no mirth behind it. “I shudder to think what you did expect.” She sat up then maneuvered around in the tub and stood, shrugging off his hands that offered to help. She climbed out without his assistance as well, using a linen to dry herself before sliding on her robe. 

 

He’d angered her, but he wasn’t sure why his concern for her had done so. “Dany...”

 

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid,” she spat. “I can still do all the things I did before and I don’t need you coddling or chastising me. I get enough of that from Tyrion.”

 

“That is not what I’m doing, at all,” he defended. “I’m your husband and I’m worried about the stress you're putting on yourself.”

 

“And what would you have me do? Wait here so you can ride off into war without me?” She asked, her hands on her hips, a fire dancing in her eyes that raised his hackles as well as caused his cock to twitch. She was something to behold when she was angry, and now she had her venom turned toward him. “Have me sit off to the side while my husband and people fight for me? That’s not the woman you married.”

 

He breathed deep to fight off his warring emotions and keep his calm. “I know damn well the woman I married. She’s as stubborn as she is fierce. She also fails to listen at times.”

 

Her eyes narrowed and she sat at the edge of her chair. “Very well. Explain yourself.”

 

Jon rubbed a hand down his face. “I would never presume to tell you to do anything. I know you  _ that _ well.” He undid the buckles of his jerkin and tossed it aside then met her eyes again. “But you also don’t get to be angry with me when I voice my concern when I feel that you’re driving yourself too hard too often. I’m worried about you, and if that’s a sin then I’m guilty and will face the wrath of whatever gods exist, if any.”

 

She turned her face away from him and they both went silent. He heard Drogon titter outside, which usually wasn’t a good sign. The dragons reacted strongly to her, and Drogon was especially fearsome when it came to his mother. Then Daenerys’ face fell and he felt panic set in as he watched her begin to cry. Tears rolled down her cheeks and when she wiped at them, she released a sob. 

 

He was beside her in an instant. He could count on one hand the times he’d seen her cry. She didn’t wrap her arms around him but kept them between him and her as he pulled her into an embrace. “Dany...” he rubbed his hand over her hair. 

 

“I hate crying,” she said finally. 

 

Jon placed a kiss on her still wet hair and squeezed her a bit tighter. “It’s not something I’ve seen you do often.”

 

She sagged against him, her hands bunched in his tunic, then he felt her stiffen and lifted her head to look at him, her smile was wide, though. She took his hand and placed it on the underside of her belly, then whispered, “Do you feel that?” He waited for a moment then felt a fluttering from her skin against his hand. At that moment, he felt his heart break and be remade at the same time. “Wait,” she called and took his other hand and placed it on the left side of her belly. “And that?”

 

This was more of a pushing sensation. He leaned down and pressed his face against the babes and heard Dany release a hiccough. “I love you,” he whispered as he sat up and covered the spot with his hand, hoping to feel it again. “I’m sorry if I’m being overprotective...”

 

She shook her head. “It wasn’t our first spat. I’m sure it won’t be our last.” She covered his hands with hers and looked down at her belly while he kept his eyes trained on her face. “I know everyone is worried about me and that’s frustrating. You’re not asking Davos if he’s alright, or Tyrion if he’s eaten, and no one is suggesting to  _ you _ that you ride in the carriage.” She huffed out a breath and he thought she was damn near irresistible when she was frustrated. “I’m not going to break or fall apart. I’m capable of helping you lead this war–”

 

“I have no doubt about that,” he rushed to reassure her. “And I would never suggest that you weren’t. This, though, is equally important,” he said as he pressed his lips to her mouth. “You are the backbone of all of this, Dany. You’re what drives me. I want to protect you as much as I can for as long as I can. But that, in no way, means I don’t think you can’t handle all of it with grace and poise.”

 

Her eyes grew watery again and more tears slid down her already pink cheeks. “I’m crying.  _ Again _ .” She let out a groan and stood. “My emotions are all at the surface and they’re jumping too fast for me to keep up!” She lifted the other bottle and brought it over to him and sat with her back to him. “It doesn’t take much,” she whispered. 

 

“Of the liquid or to send you over the emotional edge?” He quipped.

 

She chuckled which he took as a good sign. “Both.” He ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing the liquid throughout, and when he finished, he placed a kiss on her shoulder. She turned to face him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Jon?”

 

“Hmmm?” 

 

He felt her smile against the skin of his neck. “You’re going to have a bath, aren’t you?”

 

He chuckled as he pulled back. “Are you telling me, my queen, that the smell of horse and sweat isn’t to your liking?”

 

She kissed him. “Not particularly. I wouldn’t have noticed if I hadn’t bathed. If we were thinking clearly we would have done it together.”

 

He shook his head. “That should tell you how concerned I am for you. I hadn’t even thought of it.”

 

“Or perhaps you don’t find me as desirable now that I’m huge.”

 

He lifted her chin and waited until her eyes met his. “I’ll not hear you say such things. You know how much I dislike lies.”

 

He felt relief course through him as she gave him a smile. “Call for more water,  _ husband _ .”

 

“As you command,  _ wife. _ ”

 

By the time new water was brought in and Jon was able to dip into the tub, Daenerys was sleeping. She had a pillow shoved beneath her ever-growing belly, her arms wrapped around his pillow, and she was ever so lightly snoring. He thought about her and the possibility of her giving birth while they were still at war. He was terrified of losing her. He was equally terrified of losing his babes. He’d give his life a hundred times to protect them all from harm.

 

Once he dried off, he had the tub removed and sealed up their tent again as he joined Daenerys in bed, taking his pillow from her. She wrapped an arm around his chest, bringing her leg up to prop on his. He turned to face her and put a gentle hand over her belly, feeling both flutters and pushes. He let the soft movements coax him into sleep, Dany gently snoring in his ear.

 

*~*

 

“I looked over the map Arthur provided,” Jon said as he rode beside Daenerys. He reached into the saddlebag behind him and handed it to her. 

 

She accepted the parchment from him and unrolled it to examine a few passages then looked at him. “Most of these we knew about from Tyrion. However, there is one near the Dragon Pit that could work to get some of the Unsullied through.”

 

She suddenly looked behind her and motioned for someone to ride up with them. The  _ who _ was Tyrion. She held the map up and pointed at it. “Is this viable?”

 

Tyrion nodded. “It is. But I thought since the Golden Company was stationed by that entrance that it wasn’t a good point of entry.”

 

They were close to King’s Landing when they heard a horn blast and watched a rider approach. He held out a Stark banner and Jon realized it was Sandor. Davos rode forward to join them and hear any news as well.  

 

“Clegane,” Jon greeted him.  
  
  
“Your Grace,” he said giving both of them a nod as his horse fell into step with theirs. “A little delayed, aren’t you?”  
  
  
“Trouble on the road. What news? Have you seen any troop movements?” Daenerys asked, her voice clipped. Jon glanced at her to see her shifting in her saddle. He wanted to roll his eyes at her stubbornness.   
  
  
“Just those Golden cunts and their elephants.”  
  
  
“Going somewhere?” Davos questioned.

  
“They moved west a few days ago.”  
  
  
“All of them?” Daenerys asked.  
  
  
“I’d say over half.”  
  
  
“An ambush from behind you think?” Jon asked.  
  
  
Sandor nodded. “Undoubtedly. There’s nothing to attack that way. They’re probably lying in wait for a siege to fuck us from behind.” He heaved a sigh. “King’s Landing is closed off. No one goes in and no one goes out, except for soldiers.”

 

Jon glanced at his wife. “We should stop for the night. Make camp and arrive at King’s Landing bright and early tomorrow, if it comes to that.”

 

Sandor pointed ahead. “There’s a village over this hill. I’ve stayed there the last week. Food’s decent.”

 

Daenerys gave the order to some of the guards to prepare their horde to stop soon. Jon turned back to Clegane. “How was Arya when you left her?”

 

“Mean as usual. Made that boy of hers suffer for a few days.”

 

“How did she do that?” Daenerys questioned. 

 

“She told him she was going to leave him to go kill Cersei.”

 

Tyrion spoke, his voice a near panic. “Did she?”

 

“No. She came to her senses and followed the plan. She may love killing people, but I reckon she loves that boy more.”

 

Jon heaved a sigh and nodded at Daenerys who held up her hand, signaling that they were going to make camp. They stayed seated on their horses and watched the process. The forest would keep their army hidden from the Red Keep. He could even see a river flowing amongst them as it drifted behind the village. He pulled his horse closer to his wife. “Why don’t you go with some of the guard to the inn?”

 

“I’m fine,” she snipped.

 

He smirked. “I have no doubt that you are. But we need a room as I want to sleep in an actual bed and not on a bunch of furs. I’m sure Missandei would appreciate a room, as well.”

 

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know what you’re trying to do...”

 

He nodded. “And you would be right. I want food, too. Go on. Take your guard with you.”

 

She rolled her eyes and turned her horse in the direction of the inn. He excused himself to follow her. “Daenerys, wait.”

 

She pulled her horse to a stop and turned to meet him. He came up beside her and took her hand. “I don’t want you to feel like I was dismissing you.”

 

“Weren’t you?”

 

He sighed and shook his head. “No. I  _ would _ like to sleep in a bed tonight. I’m only going to watch some of the camp set up and then I’m right behind you.” He heaved a sigh, “Besides, I heard your stomach growling a while back.”

 

“And you can’t come with me?”

 

He frowned. “I want to talk to Clegane a bit about Arya. If she was thinking about abandoning the plan to go to Storm’s End with Gendry, that’s something I have questions about.” He could see her battling over something in her mind and he called her on it. “What? What’s got that look on your face?”

 

“Before we turn in, we need to have a meeting with all of our commanders. And Varys. If the Golden Company went West, I want to know why and we need to be prepared for an attack.”

 

He nodded. “I agree. After we eat. Let’s give them some time to get settled. And perhaps you and I can go high in the air on the dragons to see if they’re close,” he suggested which caused her to smile. 

 

“I haven’t flown since Harrenhal. I accept your terms, Jon. Go back and inquire about your sister and I’ll go to the inn and secure a room.”

 

He reached out and put a hand on her belly, a smile on his face, “And by all means, eat without me. I’ll be along shortly.”

 

Jon watched her turn her mount around and her guard followed her to the inn. Jon spurred his horse back and found Sandor talking with Jaime about their plan to get into the Red Keep, Tyrion keeping a close ear. “I need you to keep the Mountain busy long enough for me to get into Cersei’s room.”

 

“I know the plan. Tell me what you can about my brother and his current...state.”

 

“He’s alive...but not really alive. I think to kill him you’d probably have to remove his head, Jaime explained as best he could, but it was clear to Jon that he didn’t know the details surrounding how the Mountain was alive. 

 

Clegane shrugged. “I was planning to do that anyway.” 

 

“The bigger question is can you kill Cersei?” Davos asked. Jon was thankful as it was the one detail that constantly kicked around in his head. 

 

“To spare the lives of all those people trapped in that city?” Jaime questioned then nodded. “I can.”

 

“Sansa’s life might depend on it,” Tyrion responded, though his voice was softer and kinder than Jon would have been.

 

Clegane looked up then. “What of the little bird?”

 

“Cersei has put a price on her head. A castle and lordship to whoever brings her Sansa’s head,” Davos was the one to answer and Jon watched Jaime as he turned away, looking ashamed. Perhaps he did feel something true for Sansa. 

 

The ground rumbled beneath them and everyone looked around as their horses bucked and thumped at the ground. The inn suddenly burst into green flames, wood and rock and ground flying through the air, all consumed by Wildfire. 

 

His heart stopped. 

 

_ DANY! _

 

His horse was moving toward the flame as quickly as he could push it.  _ She can’t be gone! They can’t! _ The green flames leaped into the darkening sky, the smell of wood burning to ash filling the air. There was nothing left but rubble. He was almost to it, almost there to search for her when a force jumped him and he was sent hurtling toward the ground. He ignored the pain that jarred his very bones. There was someone on top of him, holding him down even as he tried to catch his breath and fight his way free.

 

“Stop! You can’t!” A far-away muffled voice screamed at him even as he looked at the few stones that were left of the building. There was no sign of her or her guard. Drogon and Rhaegal had taken to the skies, circling overhead, calling out. He barely even registered that it was Jaime holding him down.

 

The silence around them was almost deafening, only the crackling of the fire as it burned and the occasional screech of Drogon. Jon buried his face into the grass, the heat from the fire reaching them. He felt a hand on his shoulder and then someone on the other side sink to their knees.

 

The body holding his to the ground moved. Jon still didn’t get up. He couldn’t look up and see the Wildfire burning away what he loved most. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, taking deep gulps of air, unable to hold back the tears.

 

“By the gods,” Tyrion breathed beside him. 

 

Drogon’s loud roar almost blocked out the sound of gasps around him. He looked up at the shuffle of wood and rubble, and the sobs of his wife crying out his name. She was crawling from the crater in the ground. Her hair was gone. Her dress, gone. Bleeding and shaking, she stumbled from the wreckage.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...thoughts? Don't worry, I'm not going to throw in a Bran chapter before you find out what happens next. Daenerys is next, followed by Arya, Gendry, Jaime, Bran, Meera, Jon, Dany, Jaime, Sansa, Arya, Gendry. So, you at least know the order of the next eleven chapters. Hopefully, I can get those out faster than I have been as I have so much of those written already.
> 
> Much love and I hope you'll let me know, even if you're shy, what you think down in the comments


	79. Daenerys XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath. Comfort. Planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Justwanderingneverlost for the gorgeous banner and the beta job she did on this fic!
> 
> To my lovely Tarts. I love you all more than breathing!
> 
> Yes, my chapter summaries are getting shorter.

 

Daenerys was exhausted. Her hips and arse ached from the endless riding. She was finding it harder and harder to stay astride a horse day in and day out. 

 

Everyone was feeling anticipation at how close they were to King’s Landing. Less than a day, at this rate. They would lay siege, using Cersei’s own troops against her. Jon was settled on his horse beside her as they watched the Dothraki, Unsullied, Northmen, and Lannister forces begin to set up camp. 

 

At her husband's urging she rode for the inn, rolling her eyes at his persistent fussing over her. When she reached her Unsullied guard, she climbed from her mount without assistance, determined to do it by herself, and her horse was handed off to a stable boy. The Unsullied escorted her toward the door. Daenerys stopped seeing a little boy holding a flower out for her. She recognized it as one of the daisies Tyrion had pointed out to her along the road. Smiling, she accepted it and the boy smiled back up at her, missing one of his bottom teeth. She took his hand and he escorted her inside with her guard. Once inside the boy released her hand to close the door behind her.

 

She stopped, looking at patrons that filled the room. They all seemed terrified. She worried it was the presence of their army and dragons that scared them. But seeing the tears of an older man sitting with what appeared to be his daughter, both of them holding one another, an older woman praying softly to the Stranger, and a man that glared hatefully at her, she came to understand that this wasn’t because of her or her armies. 

 

As she took another step into the room the floor began to rumble under her feet. Her Unsullied jumped to action and backed her towards the door. She tried the handle, only to realized it was locked. Dany looked at her guard in panic, they immediately scanned the room for another exit, but each window was closed and latched. No other option to be found, they forced her against the outer wall, forming a barricade around her. Green flames engulfed them all. 

 

The flames licked at her skin, the pain prickling and stinging her everywhere at once, running along her nerves causing her very sight to go white as it ricocheted through her body. She screamed as the stone and everything else melted away, her hands swinging out to find purchase to keep herself from falling. Her ears rang from the explosion. Then something slammed into the back of her head, causing her already dizzy mind to spin dangerously. She drifted to the bottom of the open crater, curling herself around her belly as she fell, turning to her back. Rocks and scraps of wood scratched her skin the further and further into the ravine she went. She didn’t unfurl herself from the ball until she came to a complete stop.

 

As the green fire raged on, she crawled quickly into a hole she’d spotted. It must have been the cellar. Debris began falling, she wasn't fast enough to escape and something sliced her shoulder. Her body shook as she sat hunched over, feeling a wetness running along her face. With a tentative hand, she reached up and found it to be tears, relief at seeing no blood causing her to moan. She cried out as her belly tightened painfully, but quickly checked her bare thighs to find them clean. She clung to the hope that her babies were going to make it.  

 

Her entire body burned, a new kind of pain she had only ever heard of from others. Blood dripped down her face and arm. Another abrupt pain seized her abdomen, she doubled over and cried, “No. No. No. Not yet.” She had survived the explosion and was determined to survive the rest of it. She waited until more of the stone settled onto the ground before she looked out at the destruction around her. She put the thoughts of the people who lost their lives out of her mind. She had to get out. She had to protect her babies. Crawling out, she began the slow climb from the crater left in the earth.

 

She clawed at the dirt, every movement excruciating as the flames continued to lick her skin. Again a sharp pain moved through her abdomen, stopping her climb. She took deep gulps of air, trying to breathe through the pain and will the babies not to come. Not now. She couldn’t lose them.  _ I can’t _ . 

 

Drogon and Rhaegal were in the air, Drogon calling out for her, wanting to land and get to her, but the unnatural fire unnerved him. She dug her fingers into the dirt, all of it shifting beneath her as she struggled through the pain in her shoulder, the tightening of her womb, and the dizziness in her head. She was sobbing by the time she reached the top and stumbled to her feet. 

 

Jon was on the ground, his head buried in the grass, Tyrion on his knees beside him, and Davos with his hand on his shoulder. She even saw Jaime kneeling on the ground behind them. But as she stumbled toward them, Jon looked up and her eyes locked with his. She grabbed her belly again as another painful contraction took the breath from her. Jon was on his feet, rushing toward her but even she could still see the flames flickering off her skin as she stepped away from her horror toward the man she loved. It took Jaime, Davos, and even a few of the Northmen to stop Jon in his pursuit to get to her. She collapsed to her knees as another contraction took her. 

 

“Water,” she begged. 

 

Jaime was the one to call out for it as Tyrion stood by helplessly, watching. Tears were rolling down his face. 

 

Jon stopped struggling against the countless arms holding him back. “The river!” he cried to her. “Can you make it to the river?”

 

She looked up. The treeline wasn’t far away. She could make it, she had too. Rising to her feet again she began walking slowly. Jon’s comforting presence following her. “Get Dari, Sam, and Missandei here now!” he roared.

 

“I’m here, Jon!” Sam called behind him, following close. The grass beneath her feet singed with every step she took. She concentrated on the smell of it burning instead of the inferno she had just walked through. She came to the muddy embankment and stopped, putting her hand on a tree as another contraction burst through her, causing a deep moan. Once it passed she removed her hand from the tree to see the imprint of it burned into the wood.

 

“Dany?” Jon called behind her, and she turned to him, wanting nothing more than to be in his arms and feel his heart beat beneath her fingers. Her own heart hurt to see the look upon his face, knowing him as she did, she wanted to hold him as well, reassure him that she was still alive. He began stripping out of his clothes as she moved into the water. She cried out in relief. Her feet no longer burned, but the water boiled around her. She moved faster and sank beneath the surface. Her skin prickled against the cool water, an instant relief from the pain of the green flames. She stayed beneath the surface for only a few moments more, feeling the need to truly let the river wash away the wildfire. When she came up for air Jon’s arms wrapped around her, her breath catching in her throat as she cried.

 

“Jon, we need her out of the water to examine her,” Sam’s voice cut through her terror and she turned to see Missandei and Dari, both with tear streaked faces holding out her robe. She moaned in pain as another contraction wracked her body, but relief flooded her when she felt one of the babes move within her. Jon carried her from the water as Drogon barged through the dense trees, no longer willing to wait, to reassure himself that she was alive. 

 

Jon only set her down to don his leathers and allow Missandei to wrap her robe around her before lifting her again and carrying her to their tent, Drogon following close behind. She extended her hand and patted his snout, reaching out for their connection. Rhaegal called out, circling nearby. 

 

As they entered the tent, Dari gave orders for water to be boiled to tend to her cuts and in case the babies were coming. Fear pierced into the very heart of Dany. It was too soon. They wouldn’t make it if it happened now. She clung to Jon, unwilling to let him from her sight, nor was he inclined to leave, murmuring words of love and adoration, reassuring her that they were all going to be fine. Dany didn’t know if he was saying it to soothe her or himself, but she hung onto it as she waited to find out if fate was going to be so cruel and let her get so close again only to snatch her children from her. 

 

She felt another contraction and squeezed Jon’s hand as her belly tightened, her mind going blank as the pain coursed through her. Dari had a hand pressed to her belly as her fingers probed inside her channel, pressing against her. She breathed out a sigh. “Water still there, Khaleesi,” she said as she stood and left the tent at a brisk jog. 

 

Sam was examining the wound on her head as another contraction ripped through her abdomen. She was struggling to breath when Dari came back into the tent and dropped an herb into a pestle and began to grind. 

 

“I need to sew up the wound on your head,” Sam’s voice cut through her worry about the babes. It was then she felt the warm, sticky wetness sliding down her head and shoulder. 

 

Before she could react to that, though, Dari was handing her a small cup with hot liquid, herbs floating in it. “Drink this, Khaleesi. All.”

 

She brought the cup to her lips and drank down the liquid inside. Dari put her hand back on her belly, then her ear. Jon sat behind her, his body holding hers up. All she wanted was sleep. Missandei took her left hand and squeezed, trying to reassure her even as they all sat uncertain. Jon’s breath against her neck kept her grounded to reality, his hand held hers as she felt him holding a cloth to her shoulder. What seemed like hours passed before Dari lifted her head and looked at Daenerys. “Pain?”

 

She shook her head, fighting off more tears. Jon spoke, asking the question in her mind, “What did you give her?”

 

“Tea. To stop babes from coming too soon. Khaleesi needs three suns in bed.” 

 

She took a deep breath as she felt one of the babies stretch against her skin. Dari suddenly grabbed Jon’s hand and pressed it to her belly. He let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressed against her temple. 

 

“Dari, we need to sew her head and shoulder,” Sam said softly. “Missandei, would you cut some bandages for me, please?”

 

Jon lifted his head and looked at Sam. “What do you want me to do?”

 

“Get her on her side and keep her distracted but awake,” he said. Jon helped lower her to the furs, and she was thankful that both injuries were to her left. Sam tucked a pillow beneath her head and instructed Dari to keep her still. 

 

Jon held her hand as he knelt on the ground beside her. “I’m to distract you.”

 

She took a deep breath, releasing it with a shudder. “You’re a good distraction,” she whispered. “My favorite ever.”

 

She winced when the needle slid through her skin and tears rolled down her face. “She used a child, Jon. A little boy with a flower distracted me from being suspicious...”

 

“Dany...if you blame yourself I’ll march out of here, fly off on Rhaegal, and burn the Red Keep to the grou—“

 

“Don’t leave me,” she begged, concentrating on the dark eyes that held nothing but love and adoration in them instead on the pain of them stitching up the wound that traveled from the nape of her neck to just above her ear. She gave a soft sob as she brought Jon’s hand to her lips. “My hair’s gone.”

 

“But you’re here,” he whispered. “I’ll take that trade,” he said as he brushed his finger over her lips. She winced again and Jon heaved out a breath. “Have you thought of names? Two girls. Surely you have some ideas.”

 

She licked her lips, feeling parched. Jon’s other hand stroked over her belly. She couldn’t imagine what her dear husband had gone through to see the inn explode. The terror he must have felt. She remembered seeing him on the ground, the defeat that had befallen him. He had told her that she was the backbone, his reason for all of this. Her heart broke for him. Her greatest love, the only man she would ever love. 

 

To keep her sobs contained she concentrated on his question. “Two girls. Both of us with mothers who gave their lives to bring us into the world.”

 

He nodded. “Rhaella and Lyanna. I’ll not have you follow in their footsteps,” he added, his voice wavering. 

 

A bandage was wrapped around her head and she was settled on her side again once they finished. The cut on her shoulder took less time. They remained silent and she knew there was so much to say still left between them, but she wanted to only share with her husband. 

 

She brushed her fingers along his jaw, distracting herself with the rough texture of his beard. His thumb was tracing lazy patterns on her stomach, their babes thumping back against his hand. She wondered if they felt him, if they could hear him and sense him. She hoped they would have their lives to know the man in front of her. The man that was still without a shirt and covered in her blood. 

 

Sam pulled Jon away from Daenerys to speak to him as Dari and Missandei helped clean the blood from her own body. Her dear friend took her robe from her once Sam had left and Jon returned. 

 

“Sam went to get something for your pain that won’t hurt the babies,” he told her as he rejoined them. 

 

Missandei looked at her blood stained robe and dropped it into a brazier. She helped Daenerys into one of Jon’s tunics instead. Dari and Missandei instructed Jon to lift her and they pulled away the blood soaked furs and pillows. He settled her back onto the clean ones beneath and covered her with a light blanket.

 

“Remember, Khaleesi, three suns and two moons,” Dari instructed looking back and forth at them. “Rest. Like now,” she said. 

 

Jon nodded at her before she left the tent. Missandei placed a kiss on her brow and took her hand. “The Unburnt means so much more now that I’ve seen you walk through the flames.”

 

“I would have spared you. All of you.”

 

Her friend held her hand a bit tighter. “The Queen I choose. Every day, Your Grace.”

 

Daenerys’s eyes welled with tears. “My dearest friend,” she said softly. “I don’t know where I would be without you.” She sniffed away her tears and took a deep steadying breath, slipping into her queenly persona. “I want to speak to our council and soon, but I need some time with my king.”

 

“I’ll have a bath sent in for him,” Missandei said with a watery smile as she turned to Jon and put a hand on his bare shoulder before she made to leave.

 

“Missandei, hold off on the bath until I’ve had some time with her.”

 

She nodded and left. Jon moved to sit beside her and pressed his head against her belly. She slid her fingers through his curls, and when he looked at her, she found herself swallowing a sob, wanting to comfort him more than anything. 

“I nearly lost you,” he finally whispered. “You’ve been this invincible force at my side since the moment I met you that...I never truly thought I might lose you. Even the Golden Company attack. I was afraid, but...I feel like I knew you would survive that,” his voice was so weak she could barely hear him. “In one violent act, Cersei nearly destroyed the thing I love most.”

 

She couldn’t find her voice. It was stuck somewhere in her chest, her heart pounding as his dark eyes stared into hers. “You can’t leave me, Dany. You can’t. I’ll burn the world if I lose you because it wouldn’t be worth living in without you in it.”

 

She moved over and tugged him to lay beside her. Once he did she propped her leg over his, her hand resting on his cheek. “I love you,” she whispered, stroking her thumb over his cheek. “I’m so very glad that you didn’t come with me to the inn.”

 

“What can I do? Give me something, anything.”

 

“Just hold me for now. You do that so well.”

 

*~*

 

Jon relayed to her that she wasn’t to go to sleep, upon orders from Sam. After he took a very quick bath, and only because she insisted as he was still covered in blood, she asked that anyone who wanted to see her, mainly their closest allies, be allowed to do so. Tyrion was the first inside. He was more than her advisor, he was like her brother. Jon had actually pointed it out to her several weeks before. It was why Tyrion was so able to get under her skin.

 

He stepped closer to her as Jon sat at the foot of the bed. “Your Grace, I’ve never been so happy to see someone as I am you at this moment.”

 

She gave him a smile, affection for him blooming in her chest. “So, you haven’t lost faith in me?”

 

“Never. And I will  _ never _ lose faith in you.” He almost gave her a smile, but it drifted away in favor of sorrow. “You know how hard it is for me to believe in anything...”

 

She held out her hand to him and he hesitated to put his in it, but finally relented and gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze. “I’ve only just stopped crying. Don’t tell me that you put your faith in me or, I promise, I will cry, again.”

 

He did smile then but he released her hand. “We can’t have that.”

 

“I need a distraction, Tyrion, since Sam doesn’t want me to sleep. I want a council meeting in here as soon as you can round everyone up...”

 

“Daenerys,” Jon’s exasperated voice sounded and she turned to see him fold his arms over his chest. “Visitors. Not the whole bloody army.”

 

Tyrion took a deep breath and turned back to her. “Speaking of the army...they’re calling you Daenerys Stormborn, the Tamer of Wildfire.”

 

She shook her head gingerly. “That’s the only fire I’ve ever touched that actually hurt. I don’t know how keen I am for people to say I tamed it.”

 

“I watched you walk out of the flames still on fire, Your Grace. It’s not an image that will leave any of us any time soon. It’s certainly instilled loyalty in the men here to fight for you.”

 

“What do you mean?” Jon questioned.

 

Tyrion looked at him, then back to her, clearly hoping she would understand. “The Dothraki, Unsullied, and Northmen were already loyal. But the new Lannister troops you acquired are finding it increasingly hard to be against you seeing as you fight for your people and walked through Wildfire.”

 

“I don’t like using what happened to her as a political advantage,” Jon said, a troubled edge to his voice.

 

Tyrion shook his head. “I’ve not spoken a word of it, Your Grace. The only people I have exchanged words with were Jaime, Davos, and Varys, who received a message and rushed to listen.” He took a deep breath. “It was from the soldiers conversations that we overheard this.”

 

Daenerys took a deep breath and cast a look at Jon. “I want a council meeting. After we decide our next move, we need to get word to Yara and Theon.”

 

“Your Grace,” Tyrion began and she could see he was going to argue with her. But she needed this. She needed to rid the world of Cersei before she caused her to lose someone else she loved.

 

“Don’t either of you argue with me. I need this. I need to concentrate on something other than what was almost lost today. If I’m going to be bed ridden for three days then you can’t stop me from working on a plan and to do that we need our council. I want the leaders of each faction, too. I’d like Clegane here as well.”

 

Tyrion gave her a wary look before speaking, “Your Grace, he said he’d been staying at the inn. Do you think we might speak to him before this meeting? How did he not know  _ that _ was where she moved Wildfire?”

 

“You suspect him of betraying us?” Jon asked, scowling.

 

Her Hand heaved a sigh. “Clegane would never against take up arms on the side with his brother. Just as I would never side with Cersei. But I still have to wonder how he didn’t know.”

 

“Let’s ask him, then,” Jon ordered.

 

*~*

 

They waited for Clegane to be brought into the tent, and in the meantime, Dari came in with a plate of food for her and stayed at her bedside until she cleared the plate. Dany found it incredibly difficult to eat from her prone position on her side. Jon ate nothing, instead he paced as Tyrion drank wine. Davos entered then, Jon having sent his trusted advisor to bring Clegane to them.

 

Jon had sent several of the Dothraki and Unsullied with them. Clegane’s eyes met hers and she saw the sadness in them. But there was something else: respect. She didn’t believe he had anything to do with what happened to her. 

 

“Clegane,” Jon said, his voice hard, laced with anger. She feared her husband would lose his temper and attack the other man, whether it was warranted or not. 

 

“Your Grace,” he said, his voice rough. His eyes flicked to her husband that he towered over.

 

“You said to us earlier that you had been staying at that inn all week, didn’t you?”

 

“Does this have a point?” The Hound asked, his voice taking on a tense edge.

 

Jon nodded. “You didn’t know it was Wildfire?”

 

“How the fuck would I know that?”

 

Tyrion stood then and moved between Jon and Clegane. “You must admit that it looks suspicious that you would mention how hospitable the inn was only for the queen to be engulfed in Wildfire only moments later.”

 

Sandor’s eyes hardened as he looked at Tyrion. “Suspicious? You think I had something to do with this? I could have enacted all manner of evils against your family over and over again.” He looked at Jon. “Your sister, Sansa, for instance. I could have taken her from King’s Landing against her will, but I didn’t. I had Arya for weeks, but I protected her, rode back south with her and talked her into going with the Baratheon boy to Storm’s End.” His voice hadn’t risen, but the disgust in his tone was hard to miss. “You and I even went beyond the Wall and she,” he pointed at Daenerys, “saved our stupid lives. Why would I plot against you, now? I’m so close to being able to kill my brother. I wouldn’t jeopardize that opportunity for anything.”

 

Jon, Tyrion, and Davos all exchanged looks, but it was Daenerys who spoke up. “I believe him. He wouldn’t hurt any of us.” Her husband’s eyes turned to her, softening as his gaze passed over her lying on the bed of furs. “You’ve been faithful to the Starks when you had no reason to be, and you’ve protected them on numerous occasions. You’ve also always been kind to me.” She looked at the other men in the room. “Now, that’s settled, let’s get the men in here and sort this out. I want a plan of action and soon.”

 

Tyrion gave her a nod. “Right. Let’s get them in here if the queen is insisting, and move this table closer to the bed so she can see it.”

 

Clegane started to leave, but Daenerys’s voice called out and stopped him. “Sandor. Please stay. Your knowledge of the castle and of your brother are critical, and as you are part of our infiltration plan, you should decide your fate.”

 

He looked around as Davos signaled for the rest of the men to come into the tent. He gave a nod. “For you, Your Grace, I’ll stay.”

 

She gave him a slight smile. Missandei followed the other men and Daenerys urged her to sit beside her. “Can you prop me up just a bit more?” she asked her friend. Missandei took one of the other pillows from the foot of the bed and propped it beneath the ones she was laying on. She then left the tent for only a moment and came back with two more. 

 

The men busied themselves with moving the table while Missandei helped with the pillow beneath her belly and gave her one to tuck between her legs. She felt instant relief from the aching in her hips and took Missandei’s hand, thankful for her always thorough consideration. The watery smile she received from her friend let her know that she would need a moment alone with her when this was all over. 

 

Jon turned his back to the table. “Can you see?” he asked softly, and she nodded as he briefly squeezed her hand. 

 

Varys had returned and whispered something to Tyrion and he stepped forward. “Your grace, the elephants are being housed in the Dragon Pit. The remaining men from the Golden Company are housed within the tunnels. Cersei has pulled the remaining Lannister army back to the Red Keep and has given orders that if the dragons are seen flying over the city to light the Wildfire.”

 

Daenerys took a deep breath through her nose, trying to calm herself. The feel of the Wildfire on her skin was still too close for her comfort. She didn’t wish that on anyone and she certainly didn’t want to be the cause of it. “What of the rest of the company?”

 

“As Clegane said this afternoon, they are waiting for us to lay siege to the castle to attack us from behind,” Varys confirmed. “They’re just beyond the King’s road with scouts set along, hiding amongst the people traveling. They’ll have word that we’re moving toward the city to their army before we get settled into place.”

 

Jon leaned against the table and looked up at Varys. “How many men?”

 

“Six thousand beyond the King’s Road. A thousand left within the walls of King’s Landing, and two hundred Lannister forces in the Red Keep. The ones hidden beyond the King’s road also have ballista.”

 

Jon examined the table and sighed. “So, we can’t fly the dragons over the group beyond the road or over King’s Landing. However, we could send ten thousand Dothraki beyond the road and take out that force tonight or early tomorrow morning. Meanwhile, we’ll have the Unsullied and the remaining forces move toward the city.”

 

Dany nodded and looked at Jaime who was standing beside Tyrion. “Jaime and Sandor, you’ll sneak into the city and hopefully we can create enough of a diversion to draw the attention of her forces inside the walls.”

  
“What about the Wildfire beneath the city?” Jaime asked.

 

Daenerys looked over at Tyrion with a nod. “The map. If we can get some of the Unsullied into the city’s walls, we can have them take care of the pyromancers.”

 

Jon looked over at her. “Wait, we have an ally in there already. Let’s see if we can get a message to him to help get the Unsullied into the keep and take care of the ones who would ignite the city.”

 

Daenerys took a deep breath. “We’ll send the Dothraki tonight. Tyrion, go with them and keep your guard close to you. I need you to be in charge there. They’ll listen to you.”

 

Tyrion nodded and looked up at Jaime. She could see the conflict on his face, concern for his brother paramount on his mind, she was sure. 

 

“Jon will see that the rest of the forces here are moved into place. I don’t want the dragons over the city or even near the walls, but I want her to still feel the presence of them. We’ll send a raven out to Yara and Theon to let them know to start coming into port.” She leaned up on her elbow and examined the large map spread over the table. “Spread the forces out around the walls of the city. Let them get a good look of what is coming for them. When the other forces are dealt with, I want the Dothraki to ride hard for the walls. When we see them, we’ll know we were successful.” She looked to Sandor and then Jaime. “You have three days to accomplish the goal of ridding the world of Cersei and the Mountain. When you succeed, you’ll hang a Targaryen banner from her balcony.”

 

Davos heaved a sigh. “It’s a good plan.”

 

Jon frowned. “Let’s hope it goes as well as thinking it out.”

 

Daenerys cleared her throat. “It will. We’ve fought the dead. We can take the city without losing innocent lives. And we will.”

 

Jon looked at her, his eyes soft and a smile tugged gently at his lips. “Aye. We will.”

 

*~*

 

Dari had her hand on Daenerys’s belly again, wanting to check her once more. Sam had also come in and checked her head injury. She’d grown tired of his ‘follow my finger with your eyes’ task. He’d also asked her questions that seemed ridiculous, but Jon explained that they were concerned about her head injury and so she indulged them. Dari’s exam left her more worried. She felt the babies moving around inside her, which brought her more comfort than Dari’s stilted use of the common tongue for Jon’s benefit. He stood beside her, holding her hand.

 

“Khaleesi is strong. Babies are the same. Still rest. Still in bed,” Dari told her firmly. She hated feeling useless. This was the very thing she had been fighting with Jon about only the night before, that she wasn’t someone to sit on the side, but she now had no choice in the matter. She wanted to be there to fight with her armies, to help them in their endeavor, but she wasn’t going to jeopardize her children. 

 

Dari left and Jon sat beside her, her hand still clasped between his. “You should get some sleep. You must be exhausted,” he said as he tugged the furs up around her, but didn’t release her either.

 

“What about you?” she questioned.

 

He heaved a deep breath. “I’m going to see the Dothraki off and make sure the Unsullied start on the move. I think once a few thousand torches appear outside the castle walls, it might help her understand that her situation is more dire than originally thought.” He pressed his lips against her fingers. “And we’re coming for her, with fire and blood.”

 

Daenerys squeezed his hand in hers. “Fire and blood.” She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them to find him watching her. “Go on,” she nodded.

 

He put a soothing hand on her belly. “I’m staying until you fall asleep.”

 

“Jon...”

 

“Don’t argue with me about it. Let me sit here and watch you for a while. My duty, at this moment, is to you and these sprites.” 

 

She swallowed the lump in her throat, unable to speak and tell him what his words meant to her wary soul. With her free hand, she cupped his face and brought his lips against hers. He lingered for a moment, placing a kiss on her nose and chin, then back to her lips. “You should get some rest.”

 

She closed her eyes and let his scent fill up the air around her. The weight of his hand holding hers, his other rubbing her belly and the thumps and stretching of the babies within reassured her that they were in this together. This war was theirs, together. Words spoken so easily all those months ago now meant the world to her. They were in this together, and nothing, not even the wickedness of Cersei and her Wildfire would keep them from liberating the country. 

 

It was the thought of them together, though, that soothed her enough to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the showdown with Cersei is so close you can almost taste it, right? Yeah, I know Dany isn’t invincible and that she probably should have died in the explosion, but fuck that, this is fantasy genre fan fiction in which fucking dragons and direwolves exist. She survived and I really don’t care if you like that part or not.


	80. Cersei

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cersei basks in her perceived triumph and makes plans for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of you asked for this chapter to be written. I can tell you now, and you'll notice the chapter title that there is no number behind her name. This is the only chapter that I will write from her perspective because I can't stay inside her evil head too long or it gives me a headache, which I am suffering right now. 
> 
> Thank you to the lovely Justwanderingneverlost for the gorgeous mood board and for the beta on this chapter.

  **CERSEI**

She stood on the balcony, barely aware of the sun setting for the day. Instead, she watched as the grass a good distance away, beyond the forest outside of the city walls, became darker, alerting them to the presence of a large force moving ever closer. And then she saw them, the large beasts that confirmed one of her deepest fears: the Targaryens had truly returned. 

 

She was meant to be one of them. She would have been a better Targaryen queen that Elia Martell, that was for certain. Perhaps she might have even been happy with Rhaegar. He had an affable manner, respected people, cared for them, even. She would have kept Jaime around, the potential for the pretty Rhaegar’s eye to wander would have been there, as evidenced by his affair with Lyanna Stark. She sipped at her wine and heard the door open behind her. 

 

“Your Grace, they’re less than a day’s ride.” Qyburn had proven to be very loyal and his experiments had brought back her fierce protector.

 

“And the Golden Company is in position?” she questioned. Her mercenary army would take them by surprise from behind. 

 

“And what of our spy in Winterfell? Any word from him about the little bitch and her crippled brother being murdered?” The bitterness she felt at thinking of the little whore, Sansa, bedding her brother made her want to do violence to her personally. And she wanted Jaime to watch as she did it. The very idea caused her lips to twitch into a smile.

 

At this, Qyburn sighed. “He was executed, Your Grace, by Bran Stark.”

 

Cersei clenched her fingers around her wine glass and looked back at the spot of the little village on the horizon. Someone would get to Winterfell and kill her. She felt it in her heart. Sansa would die for taking Jaime from her. She wondered how long they’d been together. He had promised to get the little whore home. Had he done that because she’d already seduced him to help her? Is that why Jaime was adamant about helping the North? To protect his beloved whore? Her heart raced to think of his betrayal. And now, he rode with her enemies to unseat her. Him and the little monster they called  _ brother _ . 

 

Torches were being lit in the camp, and the vastness of what she could see did frighten her. If they got in the walls, her death would not be one of mercy. Too much had happened now. “Come, Qyburn, and watch our plan unfold,” she called. He moved to stand beside her. Suddenly, Wildfire lit up the horizon. They were told to only light it if the dragon queen and her bastard husband entered. She smiled, wider than when the great Sept exploded.

 

She turned from the balcony and poured more wine. “How long until they surrender without their leaders, I wonder. One day? Two?”

 

Qyburn shook his head. “Hard to say, Your Grace. Would your brother allow this to go without a fight?”

 

Cersei frowned. “Tyrion has no control over the dragons, much like the rest of her army. He’ll run, like the little coward he is.” She looked up at him. “Confirm they’re dead,” she said. “I want to relish in it.”

 

Qyburn gave her what he considered a smile and bowed his head as he left. “Yes, Your Grace.”

 

She looked out at the balcony again and could see the great beasts in the air, could hear their cries.  _ They mourn _ , she thought. She stood and walked over to it once more, watching as the green flame lit up the night sky. 

 

Her body hummed with pleasure, knowing she had destroyed the last of the Targaryens forever. She hoped her brother was crying over the loss of his whore queen. She hoped he mourned to death. Wasted away to nothing, suffering for the rest of his life.

 

She hoped Jaime came crawling back to her to tell her how wrong he was to take up arms against her. She wanted to see the look on his face as she jabbed a dagger into him. But more than that she hoped she had Sansa’s severed head when that happened. Taunt him with the little bitch’s death before he suffered his own.  _ No one walks away from me. _

 

She went away from the balcony and called for supper to be brought to her. She dined on roasted boar and pheasant, roasted vegetables, succulent fruit, and the finest wine in the Seven Kingdoms. Nothing had ever tasted sweeter. She had them keep the lamps low, allowing the green from the Wildfire to illuminate the room. It would burn for hours still.

 

And she would rejoice in it.

 

*~*

 

She was delighted to see the fire still simmering over the hill, plumes of black smoke filling the air. There were still dots over the ground where their tents stood, but she knew it was only a matter of time before they surrendered to her. She cut the head off their army. They wouldn’t march on without the dragon whore and her pet dog.

 

She was half-way through her morning when Qyburn approached her in her chambers, and the look on his face was foreboding.

 

Her walls rose high, settling herself into the knowledge that she had won this war and there was nothing he could say that would take away her eventual victory. “What?”

 

Qyburn’s cold eyes met hers and she didn’t like how concerned he looked. She glanced out at the still smoldering fire. There was nothing to worry about, she knew she had won.

 

“They lit the fire too soon, Your Grace. The usurper king was not with her when she went into the inn.” She stood suddenly from her desk. “And she lived.”

 

Cersei felt her blood boil and fear grip her. “What do you mean she lived?”

 

Qyburn lowered his head. “She was in the inn as it exploded. But she walked through the flames, still on fire. The city has already received news of this, though we are trying to stamp out any who mutter her new title.”

 

“And  _ what _ is her  _ new _ title?” she asked through gritted teeth.

 

“ _ The Tamer of Wildfire _ .”

 

Cersei leaned over the desk, pressing her hands against the wood. She took great gulps of air through her nose, finding she couldn’t draw a deep enough breath.  _ It’s not possible _ . “She walked through Wildfire?”

 

He nodded. “Yes, Your Grace. All of her armies bore witness. Even the Lannister men she acquired at Harrenhal.”

 

With a sudden burst of fury, she swept her arm over the surface knocking everything onto the floor. Parchment floated through the air, precious heirlooms clattered to the floor noisily. The outburst brought her no comfort. 

 

“I’m afraid that’s not all, Your Grace,” he said softly. “The Unsullied, Northron, and Lannister forces have been moved outside the walls during the night.”

 

Her pulse raced beneath her skin. They could still make a difference with the majority of the Golden Company hiding beyond the King’s Road. But she noticed a large omission. “And the Dothraki?”

 

“They rode out when the other forces marched outside our walls.”

 

“Rode out where?”

 

He didn’t look at her and she knew before the words came out of his mouth. “West. Beyond the King’s Road.”

 

She hung her head, malice strumming through her bones. “How many?”

 

“A great deal of her Dothraki remain with her, but they sent a large enough contingent that will stream through the company like water over a stone. We can still get you out of the keep, Your Grace. Hide you somewhere.”

 

“I will not yield! I will not ride off like a beggar! If they want this city, I’ll make sure it and everyone inside it burns to the ground before they take it from me!” She looked back at the burning Wildfire on the hill. “Make sure Wildfire is posted beneath every major thoroughfare. All of it will burn.”

 

“Yes, Your Grace.”   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, do you all hate her as much as I do?


	81. Arya XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Gendry are settling into being Lady and Lord of a keep, however, newcomers force them to make hard decisions. But as always, they're doing it side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, I know it's been a while since I did an Arya chapter for this story. But here you go.
> 
> Huge thanks to Justwanderneverlost for not only the GORGEOUS mood board but also the beta on this chapter.
> 
> As for my other fics, I am working on them as well as Legend's of Winter's Peak with JW. I know it's been a long time for Catch Us Where We Sleep and I Am A Man On Fire, You A Burning Desire, but I am making progress with both. Thank you all for your patience and support. 
> 
> Also, I really hope you like this chapter. The next one will be Gendry followed by Jaime. I hope to get another update for this fic out before the end of the month. Drop me a line and let me know what you think.

**ARYA**

The exterior courtyard was empty, not that she was really expecting people to be in it. She found that a lot of Storm’s End’s occupants didn’t trust the weather, and tended to stay close, if not inside the castle. Their second day there, they’d found several open-air pavilions on different levels of the keep. They were designed in such a way that the rain wouldn't get more than a foot inside the room. But on sunny days, they were filled with light, the rays filtering through colored glass to decorate the room in various patterns. 

 

The great hall had been filled with tables that day and the people had slowly filtered into the room to greet the new lord and his lady. For more than one occupant inside the keep, seeing Gendry in the Baratheon colors, sitting at the head table, had been like having a young Robert in attendance. But she knew that his appearance and strength would be the only ways that Gendry would ever resemble his father.

 

She gripped the hilt of her sword a bit tighter as she walked to the outer wall, Rhys walking with her on orders of Gendry. He feared them getting caught in an ambush. She found Harry standing nearby and he gave her a pleasant smile as she approached. On the other side of the wall, she saw Gendry standing on the cliff where he said he’d be. Still wary of being overheard, they met there each day to discuss any issues they didn’t want to be overheard by someone in the keep. On days where the storms raged outside, Harry, Rhys, and Peeta would sweep the room and stand at the door to keep anyone from listening. 

 

Her lover stood with his back to her as he stared at the ground, his arms folded over his chest. Something was bothering him, that was clear to see. She put a hand on his shoulder and he looked over at her as she came to stand beside him. He smiled, but she could still see worry etched around his eyes. “I’ve seen that look before. What’s happened?”

 

He sighed and took her hands in his. “Someone has been in our room.”

 

“What do you mean?” Her eyes narrowed in question, her hackles raised to think of someone snooping around in their private space.

 

“Exactly what I said. I felt like someone was moving things, not much, but enough that I noticed because I have a strange thing about where I put things. But they’ve been shifted over a few inches.”

 

“Looking for something?” she asked. 

 

“Or to let us know that they can get to us if they want.”

 

“For how long?”

 

“A few days.”

 

She took a deep breath. “And you’re just now telling me?” She huffed. She thought on it, wondering if she could sneak around the castle unnoticed. But then, a thought occurred to her. “We had a new group come through a few days ago. Mostly farmers, though, remember?”

 

He nodded. “Families and older people looking for refuge. Why would they do this?”

 

“Cersei has spies everywhere. I wouldn’t put it past her to have sent someone. Then again it could be someone already here. Only a few people know you and I actually share a room. Do you think it was Ser Farring?”

 

Gendry shook his head. “My instincts say _no_. They’re not as reliable as yours, but I do feel like he really is here to serve House Baratheon.” He tilted his head and sighed. “Do you think he’s out to hurt us?”

 

She shook her head and frowned. “No. He’s had opportunities to harm both of us.” She released his hands and folded her arms over her chest. “What exactly are they moving?”

 

His dark look turned darker. “My clothes. My boots. Put one of my daggers into the side table.”

 

Arya huffed out a breath. “Intimate things. And only yours.”

 

“As you said, it’s a threat,” his voice was low. 

 

She shook her head. “We both knew it was too good to be true. Everything was moving along too smoothly.”

 

He nodded. “I got this, as well,” he said, holding up a scroll. 

 

She took it from him and read it. She looked up at him and frowned. “You know what it says?”

 

He nodded. “Read it myself,” he said with a bit of a smile. She smiled back at him, but it vanished in wake of the news it carried. “Attacked at Harrenhal.”

 

Gendry showed her the other one. “And this one from your sister. 

 

“Why did she send the raven to you?”

 

“Because Bran told her to,” he answered. “It’s all in the letter.”

 

Her eyebrows rose and she smirked as she faced him. “My brother, my all-seeing brother is in love. And he executed someone. That is...bizarre to me.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Bran. We can ask him who’s sneaking into our room.”

 

“Could take a week to get a response,” he said but nodded. “Do you want to send the raven?”  

 

She nodded. “Yes. I was told before I came out here that Brienne’s father should be here tomorrow.”

 

“What do you know about him?”

 

“I know that he taught Brienne to fight with a sword and she loves him. That’s good enough for me,” she answered softly.

 

He stepped forward and ran his hands over her arms before resting them on her shoulders. “Your father did the same for you.”

 

She sighed. “He did. I think he still thought I would marry a Lord and fill his keep with babies.”

 

“I don’t think I would mind that as long as I was the lord, the babies were mine, and we taught them how to fight.”

 

Arya rested her head against his shoulder and groaned. “I don’t want to think about children yet.”

 

“I can’t say I disagree with that. Too much is still happening for me to even feel remotely safe about it.”

 

She lifted her head and pressed a kiss to his lips. “That’s why you’re the one I want. You understand me better than anyone.”

 

“You’re m’lady. I’d be a poor lover if I didn’t know you.”

 

She grinned. “And we both know how you excel at pleasing me.”

 

“I make it my goal, Arry, to make sure you're thoroughly satisfied. Can’t have you finding some knight you like better.”

 

“Never happen. I’d be a better fighter than he is and his pride wouldn’t be able to handle it,” she whispered before she leaned up on her toes and kissed him. 

 

“After supper, let's retire to our rooms and get more familiar with one another,” he said as he pulled her against him.

 

“After supper? You’re willing to wait that long?”

 

He grinned. “I admit, the thought of fucking you on the high table does get my blood flowing.” She laughed as she let him run his hands along her body. “I don’t think some of the others would like that very much though.”

 

She tilted her head. “But if it’s what the Lord of Storm’s End demands—“

 

“Don’t fucking tempt me, Arya,” he growled as his mouth caught hers in a heated kiss. They lingered there together, and she gripped his jerkin in her hands. 

 

She pulled away and smiled at him. “You smell like fire. Have you been in the forge?”

 

He nodded. “Wanted to clear my head and think after finding someone had been in our room. Making weapons and armor helps me do that.”

 

She nodded and grinned. “We’ll certainly be the best-armored army in the kingdom.”

 

“Don’t make fun of me,” he said with a smirk. He turned toward the castle and they began walking. “I will let you know that one of the other lords asked when you and I were getting married.”

 

“What did you say?”

 

He held his arm out to her. “I told him that things in the kingdom needed to settle down, we didn’t know if our banner would be called to assist the two Targaryen’s marching for the throne.”

 

“That’s a rather smart political answer.”

 

“You’ll have to thank Ser Farring. He gave me that as a reason. I think he likes you.”

 

“I think he’s afraid of me.”

 

“Those are not mutually exclusive. I like you and I’m also afraid of you,” he joked.

 

“You’re not really afraid of me, are you?”

 

He smiled over at her and shook his head. “Not anymore.”

 

She nudged him with her elbow. “I’ll go send the raven to Bran. You go greet your people,” she looked to the east, out over the water and saw thick dark clouds forming. “Storm’s moving in.”

 

“I’m glad we got some time to be together out here, then,” he said as he took a deep breath. “The castle is sometimes too musty.”

 

“Only after days of rain.”

 

“I like the storms, though. The way they sound against the castle. Almost like music,” she mused. 

 

“I like fucking during them.”

 

“Why, Lord Gendry, what would the others think to hear you say such things?” she teased.

 

“They'd probably agree,” he laughed. He placed a kiss on the back of her hands. “Off to your raven, m’lady.”

 

She gave a mock curtsey. “My Lord.”

 

*~*

 

_ Bran, _

 

_ How are things in Winterfell? I hear that not only have you executed someone (can I say how impressed I am that you swung the sword, just like Father always said) but that you’re in love? Who is she? Would I like her more or would Sansa? You know there is a difference. Either way, I’m happy for you and I hope it works out for the best.  _

 

_ How is Sansa? She only mentioned  _ _ him _ _ once in her letter, so am I to assume that she’s getting over it or just leaving him out because it could be a danger. I hope it’s a combination of the two. She can do better. We all know it. However, I’m never going to be the person to tell someone they can’t or don’t need to do something. People look at me and think I should be a proper lady, yet, I’ll never be happy being only that. I rather like my life as it is, helping train our soldiers, helping Gendry with matters regarding the people that live in this keep. I never thought I would care, but it turns out I do. Funny life, isn’t it? _

 

_ I’ve rambled enough and will come to the true reason I’m writing to you, which I feel you probably already know. Someone is sneaking into our room, and we need to know who. Are they a threat to us? What is their purpose? Is it a group we should be worried about? I know you will tell me all I need to know to help keep us safe.  _

 

_ I love you and miss Winterfell. Give my love to Sansa and my regards to Brienne, Tormund, and Podrick. Stay safe. _

 

_ Lady Arya Stark _

_ Lady of Winterfell _

 

She started to use her Stark seal, but changed at the last minute, heating the wax and using the Baratheon one instead. She carried it to the Maester and watched as he tied it to the raven and sent it away. “My Lady, if I might have a word.”

 

She nodded and he closed the door behind her. “There was a group that came in a few days ago, I’m sure you have seen them.” At her nod, he continued. “A few of them have been causing problems for some of the women in the castle. I’ve had to stitch up two chambermaids. I would have told Lord Gendry, but I saw you first...”

 

“Do you know which men?”

 

“I do not. But I’m sure Natasha and Mary could tell you.” She gave him another nod. “They’re afraid to handle those rooms.”

 

Arya blinked a few times and tilted her head. “Was it just stitches?”

 

He lowered his head and looked at the table in front of him. Arya’s hand on her sword hilt tightened. “I trust you gave them moon tea?”

 

He nodded. “I did.”

 

“I’d like to see Natasha and Mary when supper is over. This sort of treatment of anyone will not be tolerated.”

 

“Of course, My Lady. I am glad I told you.”

 

She nodded. “Thank you,” she said before she turned and stormed from the room. She wondered what Gendry would do. How would he handle it? Her instinct was to kill the men, without question. Would Gendry’s be the same? She knows how he felt about what her sister endured, but would he act differently since it was his keep and his people? She felt she knew his heart, and he wouldn’t tolerate for that to happen within his keep, but she wanted to be sure.

 

*~*

 

Arya barely ate as she thought about the news the Maester has given her. She watched as a few of the men grabbed at the maids and slammed her knife on the table.

 

Gendry turned from his conversation with Ser Farring and looked at her hand then followed her gaze to the people. One of the men pulled one of the servants into his lap even as she struggled. “Ser Farring, see that those men understand that their behavior will not be tolerated.”

 

Ser Farring stood and called over a few of the guards. Arya looked at Gendry, anger boiling in her stomach. “You alright?” he asked.

 

“We’re going to have two visitors after dinner.”

 

“Who? Why?”

 

She put a hand on his and looked him in the eye. “I need you to temper your reaction. We’re having a casual conversation, alright?”

 

He nodded and gave her a slight smile, though she could see the strain behind his eyes. “Alright. Tell me.”

 

“The Maester told me two of the maids were raped. He’s bandaged them up and gave them moon tea, but it still happened.”

 

She noticed the muscle in his jaw clench and could feel his fingers tighten around hers. “Who did it?”

 

“We’re going to talk to Mary and Natasha and find out,” she said with a smile as she brushed her hand along his arm. “And when we do, we’ll handle it together.”

 

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “As m’lady commands.”

 

*~*

 

After dinner, she was using the whetstone on Needle as Gendry stood by the fire, examining the antlers. “I don’t remember Winterfell being covered in Direwolves to this extent.”

 

She chuckled and continued sharpening the blade. “All the furs and sigils didn’t have a lasting effect?”

 

Gendry glanced at her over his shoulder. “Now that you mention it, I think I was usually more consumed with you than actually what the room looked like.”

 

“Oh? Has your interest waned?” she teased.

 

He turned to face her and smirked. “No. And don’t give me that look. We’ve got serious business to discuss.”

 

She wiped down the blade of her sword before she put it back into its scabbard. “You’re right.” She stood and put her sword belt back on just as a knock at the door sounded. “Come in,” he called and the Maester, Ser Farring, and the two girls entered the room. She watched as Peeta closed the door behind them. “I want you to know that My Lady and I take this matter seriously.”

 

Both women kept their heads lowered and she looked to Ser Farring. “Perhaps, Ser Farring, you could wait outside the door.”

 

He looked at the two women and gave Arya a nod. She ushered the women to sit, which they did. The Maester stood beside the door. “Mary, Natasha, Lord Gendry and I heard what happened, but we need you to tell us who it was.”

 

Natasha kept her head lowered as she glanced at the two of them and then back at the Maester. Mary lifted her head and heaved a sigh. “It was some of the men that came in with the farmers. I heard em say they was sellswords.”

 

“Them?” Gendry asked. “More than one?”

 

Mary lowered her head again and looked at Natasha. “Go ahead,” the Maester urged. 

 

“Three m’lord,” Mary answered. 

 

“When did this happen?”

 

“First night they was here. We told the other girls not to tend their rooms after. Clarence has been doin’ it, and they broke his nose cause he wouldn’t let us come do it.”

 

Gendry looked at Arya and knew he was asking her to make sure. “Were you badly hurt? Cuts? Bruises?”

 

Mary lowered her chin to her chest and the Maester cleared his throat. “Burned,” she whispered. She turned her back to them and lifted her hair to show a burn mark hidden beneath a bandage.

 

“What rooms are they staying in?” Gendry asked.

 

Mary frowned. “Fourth floor, the last three rooms on the right.”

 

Gendry cleared his throat and called, “Ser Farring.” The Knight opened the door and Gendry picked up his hammer. “Take some of the guard and the Maester and bring the men staying in those rooms to the Hall.”

 

“Yes, My Lord.”

 

“Natasha and Mary, we’ll ask that you come with us. No one will touch you, but I want to make sure we have the correct men.”

 

Peeta and Harry walked in front and back respectively as Gendry and Arya walked side by side. “No deception?”

 

Arya shook her head. “None. We’re going to kill them, right?”

 

“That’s my plan. Will be interesting to see if they beg for their lives.”

 

“You going to use your hammer?”

 

“I might use my bare hands. I want this to send a message that this will  _ not  _ be tolerated. And the penalty will be death.”

 

Arya and Gendry entered the hall, neither taking their seats at the table, instead, they both stood in front of it as Mary and Natasha stood to the side flanked by Harry and Peeta. The doors opened with Ser Farring leading the way and three men, one of which had been the man harassing the serving girl at dinner. Arya’s hand tightened on the hilt of her sword and glared at the men in front of her.

 

Ser Farring stood off to Gendry’s left as the men were held in place by some of the guards. “This how you treat guests in your castle? Drag me outta bed in the middle of the night.”

 

She could feel Gendry tense beside her but his tone was even, smooth. “You find my hospitality lacking?”

 

“Yeah. Especially where your women are concerned.”

 

Gendry glanced at Arya and took a deep breath. “What are your names?”

 

“You gonna tell us why we’re here?”

 

Gendry nodded. “It seems that you’ve been taking advantage of my keeps’ hospitality. Abusing it. Raping it. Those are things I don’t tolerate.”

 

“So this is a trial?” the man questioned and looked at his compatriots. “Why? Cause we had a bit of fun with our chambermaids? They ain’t even doing their job no more. Sides...that’s the price of being a chambermaid.”

 

Gendry shook his head but Arya spoke. “The price of being born into a certain station is never to be raped.”

 

“What would a highborn lady know about it? Especially one that’s warming her lord’s bed every night.”

 

Arya tilted her head. “Your names.”

 

“Godfrey.”

 

“Lancen,” the mouthy one said.

 

“Darren.”

 

She looked at Mary and Natasha. “Ladies, are these the men who attacked you?”

 

Mary nodded and Natasha let out a soft ‘yes’. Gendry spoke to the men. “Anything to say?”

 

Lancen spoke. “I demand trial by combat.”

 

Gendry’s mouth twitched. “And if you win?”

 

“My friends and I go free.”

 

“And if you lose, your heads will be mounted on the walls?” Gendry asked as he lifted his hammer.

 

Lancen nodded. “If. And I use a sword. Seems I should fight someone with a sword.”

 

“My Lord, I volunteer to fight for you,” Ser Farring said, but Lancen spoke again.

 

“No. The Lady carries a sword.”

 

Gendry looked at Arya and then Ser Farring. The older man almost smiled at her. “You want to fight me?”

 

“You’ve helped accuse us. You can fight for your accusation.”

 

Gendry turned to Arya, his eyes bright. “You don’t have to,” he whispered, but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. She could see the warmth in his eyes and they both knew these three men would be dead very soon.

 

“I can do this,” she responded. The other men backed up as Lancen was given a sword. He spun it in his hands a few times and she heard Gendry sigh. 

 

Lancen lunged at her and she sidestepped him, then slapped his back with her sword. He turned and raised it to fight against her, but one block overhead and she stuck Needle straight through his gut. He stared at her in shock, bringing the sword down to slash at her, only for her to twirl to her left and drive it in through his side. He fell to his knees and she stuck him through his neck, the sound of him gargling blood filling the room. Arya moved back to stand beside Gendry as Lancen fell to the ground, dead. The other two men were brought before Arya and Gendry again, both staring at the bloody, dead body of their compatriot. “Mercy!” Godfrey called. “Send us to the Wall.”

 

Gendry shook his head. “There is no Wall. The dead are gone, the Wildlings are part of this kingdom. Hurting those that are weaker than you will never be tolerated in this keep or this kingdom. Godfrey, Darren, you have been found guilty of the crimes of rape and torture. Unless either of you would like to have a chance at trial by combat?”

 

Both men hung their heads. “How would you like them executed, My Lord?” Ser Ferring asked.

 

He looked at Arya. “How do they handle rapists in the North?”

 

“Cut their balls off. Then sent them to the Wall.”

 

Gendry quirked an eyebrow. “That idea has some potential. Only there is no Wall.”

 

Ser Farring cleared his throat. “We have a gallows, My Lord.”

 

“Do we have cells?”

 

“We do, My Lord.”

 

He looked at Arya. “Put them in there until we decide how they’ll die.”

 

“Yes, My Lord,” he said and the two men were snatched from the ground and led out of the room. Arya turned to the two women. “If anyone does this again, come to me.”

 

Both women bowed and left the room, the Maester looking over the dead man on the floor. “This one thought too much of himself.”

 

“Or too little of My Lady. Maester, should you hear of people treating those inside the keep poorly, I want you to tell me. I’ll not have anyone being treated like they were.”

 

“What do you want us to do with his body?”

 

“Pitch him over the cliff,” Arya said softly. “Let the ocean handle him.”

 

“And the other two?”

 

Gendry leaned against the table and rested his hands on his hammer. “Suggestions, Maester?”

 

“Traitors are hung. Deserters are beheaded. Rapists have been sent to the Wall in the past. I don’t know the right answer. Perhaps gelding them and leaving them alive is the right one.”

 

“They would still be able to hurt people,” Arya said as she leaned against the table. “They’re sellswords. Gelding them and turning them loose means they can still make a living. They shouldn’t be allowed to prosper on the suffering of others.” She tilted her head as she looked at the dead man on the ground. “My sister fed her rapist to dogs.”

 

“A quick death would seem to be the right answer, My Lady.”

 

“Why? Do you think what happened to Natasha and Mary was quick?” she snapped at the maester. “You came to me because you wanted resolution for them.”

 

“I meant no offense.”

 

“Maester, thank you for bringing this matter to us. We will have an answer in the morning.”

 

“Of course, My Lord.”

 

The maester left the hall and a few of the guards followed with Lancen’s dead body. Gendry looked at her and took her hand in his. “Well fought, m’lady.”

 

She turned to him and frowned. “With Lancen or the Maester?”

 

He gave her a soft smile. “Both.” He sighed. “Let’s go to our room and discuss how to handle the other two.”

 

*~*

 

Arya sat along the rocky edge of the bath, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. She felt Gendry’s hands on her bare shoulders and she leaned her head against him. “Talk to me,” he said as he sat beside her and turned to put his legs into the bath. 

 

“Started thinking about Sansa,” she said softly, confessing to Gendry, her love, about the sister with whom she’d recently found common ground. “What I would have done to Ramsay...”

 

He looked over at her and sighed. “Feeding him to his own dogs seems appropriate.”

 

She sighed. “I feel guilty.”

 

“Why do  _ you _ feel guilty?”

 

Arya looked at him. “I knew Sansa was married to Ramsay and living in Winterfell. And I didn’t go home to help her. I went home because I heard Jon was there and had taken it back.”

 

Gendry was silent for a moment and frowned. “Did you know Ramsay was doing that to her?”

 

“I knew she was married to a man whose father betrayed my family. That made him an enemy. After I had been there a few weeks, Sansa didn’t tell me all of it, but I knew enough that she truly suffered horrific things because of Ramsay. And I might have been able to stop it.”

 

“ _ Might _ . What if you had gotten there and she was already gone? You can ask yourself these questions and make yourself crazy...but you can’t change the past. You and Sansa left off at a place where you were friendly with one another.” She scoffed and he nudged her with his elbow. “Weren’t you the first one she told about her feelings for Jaime? She trusted you with that. She trusts you with her life.” He placed a kiss on her shoulder. “If Sansa doesn’t hold you up for contempt, then you shouldn’t do that to yourself.”

 

She leaned against him. “Just seeing those girls like that...it hurt me thinking that could have been how Sansa was.”

 

“You love your sister,” he said softly. “And you worry for her. Perhaps, once Jon and Daenerys reach King’s Landing and unseat Cersei, you could go visit her in Winterfell.”

 

She frowned. “I wouldn’t go without you,” she whispered. “I know we were joking around earlier this afternoon, but how soon would you get married if...if that’s what I wanted?”

 

He was quiet for a moment and she nudged him. “I’m trying to think if you’re looking for another answer besides  _ right now _ .”

 

“So, if I said to you let’s go to the sept, right now, and have them marry us?”

 

“I’d help you get dressed and we’d go.”

 

“It’s that simple for you, isn’t it?”

 

He shrugged. “You’re my future. That’s simple to me.”

 

“I don’t want to get married right now,” she answered quickly. “But...I was thinking that once Jon and Daenerys take King’s Landing, then we could get married.”

 

He tilted his head at her, a smile tugging at his lips. “Do you want me to wait and ask you or do you want me to ask you now?”

 

She sighed and moved into the water and tugged on his hand to pull him with her. “I’ll leave it up to you.”

 

He leaned in and kissed her. “I love you.”

 

She smiled. “I love too.”

 

*~*

 

The rain had stopped and the hall had been cleared. The soldiers dragged the two men out of their cells and to the gallows. Several others gathering to see their new Lord in action. The two men were strung up from the gallows and Arya stood with the crowd, flanked by Ser Farring and Peeta. Mary and Natasha stood to the left of Ser Farring with the Maester close. 

 

“The men before you have been accused and have admitted to rape and torture of two of our citizens. Everyone who lives within these walls should feel safe and those who violate their safety will be met with justice.” Gendry turned to the two men and said something to each, both of them speaking to him softly. Ser Farring had given Gendry his sword to use and with a swift strike, the rope holding the barrels in place jerked away and the two men swung in the air. As Gendry walked down from the gallows, he stopped and spoke with the Maester who nodded. The people went back to their lives even as the two lifeless men kept swinging.

 

Arya felt as if she was being watched, but as she looked around, she didn’t see anyone looking at her. It felt familiar and malicious all at once, and when Gendry approached and touched her arm, she startled. “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, his eyes scanning the crowd.

 

“I don’t know. I’ve got a strange feeling, Gendry. That we’ve got other problems.”

 

“Meaning?”

 

“I feel like someone is watching me...but almost like it’s a presence I know.”

 

“Faceless man?”

 

Arya looked up at him then, concern stretching through to her very core. “We better hope not,” she whispered.

 

The two men were cut from the gallows and their bodies carried away. Harry then approached them. “My Lord, Lord Selwyn of Tarth has been spotted on the horizon.”

 

He nodded. “Thank you. Make sure food has been prepared and I want the full guard out here to greet our honored guests.”

 

“Yes, My Lord.”

 

Gendry held out his arm to Arya as Ser Farring walked on his other side. “How do I greet him?”

 

“Lord Selwyn,” Ser Farring said with a smile. “He’s a very amenable man.”

 

“We know his daughter, Brienne, well. One of the finest fighters I’ve ever seen,” Arya said with a smile.

 

Riders began to file into the walls of the keep and Lord Selwyn stepped forward. It amazed Arya how much Brienne actually looked like her father. She had his white blonde hair, his bright blue eyes, and it was obvious her size came from him as well. 

 

“Lord Selwyn.”

 

“Lord Gendry. Lady Arya. I’ve heard a great deal about you both from my daughter in her letters. She speaks very highly of you.”

 

Arya smiled. “Lord Selwyn, coming from Brienne, I can not imagine a higher honor.”

 

Thunder rumbled in the distance as the wind picked up. Gendry glanced up. “We should take shelter in the hall. We’ve had lunch prepared for you and your men.”

 

“Thank you, My Lord.”

 

Arya took a deep breath as she and Gendry led the way, wondering what this visit would hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing badass Arya is one of my favorite things. But then, I love that she shows her real, true self to Gendry. She's like an M&M when it comes to the world. Hard candy coating to the world, but mush to Gendry.


	82. Gendry XIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya gets a response from Bran about the person sneaking into their room and it's a blast from the past. Gendry gets a warning and bad things come to Storm's End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credit to justwanderingneverlost for the mood board! It's wonderful!
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by the song "Fell on Black Days" by Soundgarden. 
> 
> Well, we're getting really close to the end of this story. I worked it out last night and I think I will end it at 106 chapters. Yeah, this story will break the 100 mark. Thank you to everyone who has stood by this story from the beginning.

**GENDRY**

 

Lord Selwyn’s men filled in some of the tables as the townsfolk sat at the rest. As for the Lord, he sat to Gendry's left with Arya on his right. “My daughter is the sworn sword of your lady sister. Does she seem to like her place at her side?” he asked Arya.

 

His love nodded and swallowed the bite in her mouth. “She does. Sansa and Brienne get along well, confidants. When we left Winterfell, Brienne was teaching Sansa how to defend herself using a sword. In my opinion, Sansa could ask for no better teacher.”

 

There was a look of pride around the man’s eyes as he looked at his plate. However, the smile drifted away and a more stern expression took over. “And what’s this I hear about my daughter has found a man that loves her. She seemed hesitant in her letters to say much about him.”

 

Gendry smirked and looked at Arya. He had to wonder what the lord would think of his daughter being in love with a Wildling. Granted, Tormund was a skilled warrior and adored Brienne, not only for her skill in battle but he also seemed to see the something deeper that lay inside. He knew all too well how people latched onto titles though. Wildlings were little more than scum in their world, even if they did fight nearly to extinction to protect everyone south of them. 

 

“I can tell you, he is a fierce warrior and is loyal to your daughter,” Arya said diplomatically. 

 

“He’s respectful?” Lord Selwyn questioned. Gendry would hate to think of what would become of Tormund if he hadn’t been. 

 

Arya nodded and smiled. “He better be or Brienne would put him in the dirt.”

 

Gendry gave Arya a smile and a nod. Tormund challenged her, but she seemed to like it, most of the time. Lord Selwyn looked almost at peace with that answer. “She’s a special woman. It would require a special man to appreciate her. Is he a Lord? A knight?”

 

Gendry took a sip of his wine and folded his hands in his lap. “He’s the leader of one of Jon’s armies, left in the North to protect his brother and sister. And if the King trusts him...”

 

Lord Selwyn looked at them both with suspicion. “I suppose I’ll have to pay my daughter a visit in Winterfell. I expect this man will ask for her hand.”

 

He thought about that for a moment, wondering what the Wildlings did for marriage ceremonies. And as far as he knew about the lady, she worshipped the Seven. He hoped if they did have a ceremony he’d be allowed to watch.

 

“How have things been in your land, My Lord?” Gendry asked, trying to steer the conversation away from Brienne as he didn’t want to betray her trust.

 

*~*

 

He was going out to meet Arya in their usual spot when the Maester stopped him. “My Lord. A raven came for your lady but I was told she was in the training yard.” He took the raven from him and watched him walk away. The Stark seal stood proudly on the scroll and hope swell in his chest. Maybe this would be the information they needed about who was sneaking into their room and why.

 

He arrived before Arya, taking a moment to inhale the scent of fresh rain, and even though there was a breeze, the humidity in the air nearly made his cloak and gambeson unbearable to wear. He felt a tap on his shoulder, sensing it was her without looking. He held up the scroll for her. She had sent the letter to her brother, he didn’t want to intrude on anything private that might have come in reply.

 

He turned to watch her read it, waiting for a change in her expression. It didn't take long, her eyes harden, her fingers tense against the parchment. “What does it say?”

 

She looked up at him, her mouth in a tight line. “Melisandre.”

 

Gendry took a deep breath and almost stepped away from her. “She’s here?”

 

“Bran says that her real form isn’t the one we know. It's a crone. He said you helped her pick something up in the yard. That she has a magic necklace that changes her appearance.”

 

Gendry bent over and put his hands on his knees, trying to take a deep breath, feeling anger and even a bit of fear coursing through his veins. He probably could have handled anything or anyone other than her. “Why? Why is she invading our room?”

 

She looked up at him then and sighed. “He doesn’t know why. She doesn’t speak to anyone so he doesn’t know her purpose, but knows she’s watching us constantly and seems to have a dislike for me.” Arya rolled her eyes. “I can’t imagine why?”

 

He stood and folded his arms over his chest. “What do we do?”

 

“I kill her. She’s on my list.”

 

She was on Arya’s list because of him. He stepped forward and pulled her into his arms for a fierce kiss. He cupped her face and she gripped his wrists as she let him plunder her mouth. He broke away, pressing his forehead against hers. “I want to know why she’s here,” he said softly. “I want an answer to that before you kill her.”

 

She nodded. “We might have to be careful about this one. It’s one thing to kill men who raped and tortured two of our citizens. It will be hard to explain why we killed an old woman.” Gendry rubbed a hand over the back of his neck as he stared at her. She cupped his face in her hands and he leaned into it. “Are you alright?”

 

He heaved a sigh and shook his head. “No.”

 

She wrapped her arms around his neck and he embraced her as well. “You have me. I’m always beside you. I’ll fight for you just as you would for me.”

 

*~*

 

Gendry was seated in the small room that had been designated as a study. He was meant to be going over some correspondence after listening to the complaints of the common people that morning. Leaks in some of their rooms, families being displaced in other parts of Storm’s End, but his mind kept going back to Melisandre and her possible reasons for being here, of all places. Surely, she had to know he wouldn’t willingly give her safe quarter. 

 

A door to his left opened and he turned his head slowly to see the woman of his thoughts entering the room, her bright, unnaturally red hair pulled into a braid over her shoulder. Her dress, in nearly the same shade, cut down to her sternum. 

 

He rose from his seat and gripped the hilt of his hammer, uneasiness gripping him. He was completely alone, even his guards were gone. 

 

“You’ve been looking for me,  _ My Lord _ ?” 

 

“You’re either incredibly brave or you don’t value your own life. Which is it?” he asked, finally.

 

“I don’t know that it’s either of those. I simply know where I’m supposed to be and when.”

 

He watched her as she looked around the room. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “Why are you here?”

 

“I’m meant to be here, Lord Baratheon.”

 

“This is my keep. You couldn’t possibly think that I would want you here.”

 

She looked down at her hands and sighed. “I served your uncle, faithfully, up until his death. I did horrible things in the name of finding the  _ right _ king. And I did that. I found Jon Snow. I raised him from the dead when my faith was in shambles. I went to Volantis, to my home, trying to find reason after I brought ice and fire together.” She stared into the flames of one of the braziers. “I found answers. Jon Snow and Daenerys Targaryen beat back the dead and are marching to take their rightful place. A place you could take...”

 

“I don’t want to be king. I had to be talked into this.”

 

“Because you still see yourself as a bastard.” Gendry looked down at the table and the stack of parchments he was reading over. “You know, you’re not that much different from Jon Snow, in that respect. He never felt like he deserved to have the good things that were happening to him. Before his battle with Ramsay, he asked me not to bring him back if he fell again. I couldn’t make such a promise.” She turned her eyes from the flame. “The throne will be his. This is yours.” He felt like ice swept through his veins as her eyes met his. “You have questions for me.”

 

“Why have you been sneaking into our room?”

 

“I wanted you to know I was here.”

 

She stepped around the table and he eyed her sharply. “Why?”

 

“To offer my services. Not to make you king, but to help root out your enemies, which, make no mistake, you have enemies in these very walls.”

 

“Why should I believe you? You were going to kill me.”

 

She nodded. “I was. Davos kept me from doing that. Some of it was Stannis, I believe. But I didn’t kill you. You’re still here and now you’re the Lord of your father’s house. And there is someone who does not want you to succeed.”

 

“Who?” he asked softly and she moved closer. 

 

She tilted her head. “Someone who takes umbrage with Robert’s bastard taking the seat of House Baratheon.”

 

“Tell me who.”

 

“Will you allow me to live, even if she wants to kill me?”

 

_ Arya _ . He shook his head. “What she does to you isn’t my concern. She put you on her list a long time ago. I’ve kept her from taking one life. I won’t do it again.”

 

“Even if the information I have is valuable?”

 

He shook his head. “No. You bought me. Got me to trust you. Seduced me. And all that time you were planning to take my life. I don’t forget. Neither does she.”

 

She tilted her head and shook it. “You weren’t fighting me when I was seducing you. You kissed me. You touched me. You liked it. Perhaps that’s your real problem. I wasn’t her and that made you feel guilty.”

 

The sound of her voice, so sure, made his skin crawl. His thoughts had been on Arya, especially once he’d realized he’d been betrayed. The look of fear and desperation in her eyes as he was carted away, how she had pleaded, begged, even fought to try and keep him. Guilt did weigh on him and perhaps it was that he hadn’t fought her off, hadn’t denied her. He looked away and frowned. “Tell me who’s the threat.”

 

“She’s with your lady, now. Don’t let her drink the tea,” she said as she glided out of the room. 

 

He rushed past her, hammer in hand, taking the stairs two at a time and came to their room. He pushed open the door and found Arya wiping down Needle, her eyes wide at his sudden intrusion. 

 

She was on her feet in an instant. “What is it?”

 

He leaned his hammer against the wall beside the door and grasped her shoulders in his hands. “Have you had tea?” he asked softly, afraid if the answer was  _ yes _ that his world would end.

 

She shook her head, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “No. Mary went to get it. Why?”

 

He released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and felt his heart beat again. “Don’t drink it. Follow my lead,” he said softly as he heard feet approaching. He placed a kiss on her lips as the door was pushed opened a bit more.

 

Mary entered the room, holding a tray with a kettle and teacup, a smile on her face. It fell when she saw Gendry was in the room.  _ Mary? She’s the one trying to hurt us? After we killed the men that hurt her?  _ She moved quickly to the table and set the tray down. “My Lord,” she said with a bow of her head and began to pour the tea into the cup. 

 

He bowed his head as well and glanced at Arya. “Mary why don’t you stay and have a cup of tea,” he said softly, gesturing to the empty chair beside the fire as he took his place on the sofa.

 

“Oh, I only brought one cup,” she said, never taking her eyes from the tray. 

 

Arya moved quickly to the other side of the room. “That’s simple enough. I have another,” she said as she joined Mary, a smile on her face. But Gendry could see it wasn’t real. “Come, have tea with me.”

 

Mary shook her head. “It’s really not my place,” she said. “You’re the Lord and Lady of the keep. It wouldn’t be proper.”

 

Arya rolled her eyes. “Mary, do you think the two of us care much for propriety?”

 

She was silent for a moment, her face falling as she shook her head. “I don’t think there’s enough for me.”

 

Gendry was on his feet and moving toward the door to block her possible escape. “Mary,” Arya said softly. “Drink the tea.”

 

“My Lady, I’m not thirsty...”

 

“I didn’t say you were,” she said. “Drink the tea or tell me what’s in it.”

 

“It’s your normal moon tea, My Lady.”

 

A look came across Arya’s face and Gendry felt his blood turn to ice in his veins. “ _ My Lady _ ?” Both Gendry and Mary tilted their heads as they stared at her. “Commoners say m’lady. Even Gendry slips into it every now and then. But you aren’t common, are you?”

 

Mary straightened. “The kingdom has gone through many changes lately, My Lady.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

She suddenly looked up at Arya and whispered, “No one.”

 

Gendry saw the look of shock on Arya’s face and knew it was a faceless man. He used the dagger at his side and attempted to stab her in the back, only for her to turn and deflect him, sending him against the wall, then kicked Arya in the stomach and sent her flying backward into the chair. But Arya was on her feet quickly, sword in hand and ran after the girl. Gendry followed, able to keep up even with the weight of his hammer in hand. They reached the great hall, the girl stopped in the middle, and Gendry barely ducked her blade. Arya was now fighting against her, Gendry joining in with a swing of his hammer at her legs which she jumped over. 

 

Arya managed to hook her leg in mid-air and sent her to her back. She rolled out of the way of Arya’s sword, but not Gendry’s boot which gave Arya enough time to slit her throat. As they both sat panting, she rolled the woman over and removed the face to reveal that of a Jaqen H'ghar. “What’s happening?” Arya questioned, looking down at the face that Gendry remembered from years before. 

 

Gendry grunted as a blinding pain split his side and he looked back to see Natasha standing over him, bloody knife in hand. She stabbed him two more times and he crumbled to the ground as Arya’s scream of, “No!” filled the room.

 

*~*

 

His mouth felt dry, like the air in Flea Bottom during the hot days of the summer, or working in the forge. His left side hurt and he groaned as he took too deep a breath and his lung felt like it would explode. A hand took his as a wet cloth brushed over his forehead. “Don’t die,” she chanted. He wanted to tell her he was fine, except for the pain, but he couldn’t get the words to form. He was rolled to his side and a sound left his lips. 

 

His body convulsed as something was poured into what felt like holes in his back. It burned all through his veins, his blood on fire. The hand that had been holding his tightened. 

 

“The poison has stopped moving, My Lady.” The voice sounded so far away, and try as he might, he couldn’t open his eyes or speak, but the sting of a needle piercing his skin caused another involuntary grunt from him. He realized he was being stitched up. The swipe of a hand came over his face, the touch soft, comforting. It was a reassuring presence and he could feel the calm of sleep pulling him into its clutches.

 

*~*

 

_ He stood staring at the Baratheon sigil, golden light shone through it, illuminating the floor of the great hall.  _

 

_ “You became more than a sacrificial lamb, I see.” He turned at the voice and found Stannis Baratheon.  _

 

_ “You’re dead. Brienne killed you.” _

 

_ “She did. Killed me for what I did to him,” he said as he nodded over his shoulder. A younger man, wearing a crown of what looked to be antlers atop his head. “Remember that loyalty to your family is as important as any ambition.” _

 

_ “I never had much ambition,” Gendry remarked. _

 

_ “He’s like me, in that way,” another voice sounded this time from behind him. A large man with a thick black beard and clear blue eyes stepped forward. “That, and he’s strong, and has fallen in love with a Stark girl. His turned out to be more faithful than mine.” _

 

_ “You’re...my father.” _

 

_ Robert nodded and tilted his head. “Not what you expected?” _

 

_ He shook his head. “Actually, from all the stories, you’re exactly what I expected.” He looked to the man with the crown. “You’re Renly.” _

 

_ “I am. Shame we never actually got to meet. King’s Landing wasn’t always that friendly.” _

 

_ “You always were more worried about making friends,” Stannis remarked. _

 

_ “I was. And one of my friends ended your life. Loyalty. You forgot that, even to your kin.” _

 

_ Robert stepped forward and took a deep breath, eyes narrowed. “You’re allowing the Targaryen’s to take the throne?” _

 

_ He nodded and tilted his head. “Your rebellion was all built on a lie. Did you know Lyanna didn’t love you? Or were you just unable to cope with her leaving you?” _

 

_ Robert got into his face. “How would you cope? How would you handle your precious Arya leaving you? She almost did once. What did you do? Did you fight for her?” _

 

_ He shook his head. “If she wanted to go, she could go. I wouldn’t be the type of man who would force her to do something she didn’t want. I wouldn’t make her stay with me! That’s what love is!” _

 

_ “You lecture me about love?” Robert roared. _

 

_ “I do. How many bastards did you have? Do you even know? Or care? You fucked women and didn’t give a shit about what happened to us! You let us grow up thinking that we were nothing! That we meant nothing!” He huffed out a breath and shook his head. “Davos has been more of a father to me than you ever were in my dreams. I will never be like you.” _

 

_ He looked at the three men standing around him. “I’ll never be like any of you. Grasping for power, not because it’s what’s best for the people, but because it was what was best for you.” He looked at Stannis. “You burned your own daughter at the stake. That shouldn’t surprise me considering you killed your brother for a throne that never belonged to you.” _

 

_ “You throw your lot in with the Targaryens?” Robert spat. _

 

_ “Behind Jon? Absolutely! He’s more of a king than you ever could’ve been because he fucking cares! Daenerys, too. You never did. You wanted to win, to prove a point. Not because it was what would have made everyone’s lives better.” He shook his head. “Meanwhile, my mother and I lived in Flea Bottom where the sewage from the castle traveled down our street.” He turned to Stannis then, pointing a finger at him. “You let me live because of Davos, but I know you were going to kill me. She would have talked you into it. And in the end, you killed your daughter for nothing.” And finally, he turned on Renly. “The people liked you better than Stannis. But that doesn’t mean you were what was right for this kingdom.” He looked around and heaved a sigh. “So, what is this? Am I dead?” _

 

_ Robert shook his head. “No. You were nearly murdered. But your lover recognized the poison and the Maester saved you. This is just...a journey.” _

 

_ “For what purpose?” _

 

_ “To remind you where you came from,” Stannis answered. “You may not like the things we did or didn’t do. You may actually hate all of us. But you’re our legacy.” _

 

_ He shook his head. “You know, there are times when it’s easier just to be a bastard from Flea Bottom.” _

 

_ Robert waved his hands and Renly and Stannis were gone, leaving them alone. His father looked around the hall, shaking his head. “I won’t make excuses for what I did. I did all those things. I don’t actually know how many children I had. Cersei saw them all dead. But she didn’t get you. And you can’t let her get you, now.” _

 

_ “What do you mean?” _

 

_ “You’ll only survive this poison that you’ve been given if you’re strong enough to fight it off. The Maester did what he could. Your woman is sitting beside your bed. But it’s up to you whether you live through it.” _

 

_ “I’m not ready to die. I have...I have things to live for.” _

 

_ Robert was silent for a moment and heaved a sigh. “She truly loves you. You’re lucky. Lyanna, I think, detested me, even though Ned wanted her to love me. Cersei loved the idea of me, but I never had any desire for her. All the countless women through the years, to be honest, meant nothing to me. I knew I had bastards. Legitimizing them was never even a consideration.” Gendry rolled his eyes. “I’m being honest. If I came here and told you my greatest regret was never acknowledging you, you’d know that was a lie. This is the truth. I’m glad you weren’t killed. I’m glad you’ve been put in place to oversee the restoration of House Baratheon. You’re a fighter. You use a Warhammer,” he said with a smile. “Have to admit, when I learned that I was rather proud. And you’ll prove my words to Ned Stark true. He has a daughter, I have a son, and we’ll join our houses.” He turned and started to walk away but stopped and faced Gendry again. “You’ll do what we couldn’t. You’ll take care of the people, you’ll be faithful to the woman you chose, and you’ll be a good Lord. You just have to fight.” _

 

_ With that, Robert disappeared and Gendry released a deep breath, feeling the pain in his lungs as he did. He wanted to feel like his approval didn’t mean anything to him, but the truth was, it did. _

 

*~*

 

There was a pain moving down his left arm, it ached all the way to the tips of his fingers. His other hand was being held and it sounded like someone was crying. He almost thought it was Arya, but she didn’t cry. In fact, he didn’t remember ever seeing her cry. It couldn’t be her. 

 

He tried to force his eyes open, to see who it was, but his body wouldn’t do as he wanted. He tried to move his fingers but even that seemed to be a task that he couldn’t accomplish.

 

The press of soft lips against his made him want to open his eyes even more. He concentrated all of his energy into it only to falter and fail. He was exhausted and against his will, sleep took him once more.

 

*~*

 

_ “Come on,” he encouraged as the little boy took unsteady steps across the solar to him, his arms outstretched toward his father. Arya was standing on the other side, her hands clasped in front of her watching their son take a few more wobbly steps before falling into his arms. _

 

_ He stood up and swung the boy around, bringing him close for a kiss on his chubby cheek. A great swelling of pride and love filled him at his happy giggle. “Have you been helping Mama with training?” _

 

_ Arya stepped forward and smiled. “He’s fascinated by the hammers. That might be more your expertise,” she said as she leaned up to kiss him, then settled in the chair beside him, her hand smoothing over the bump of their second child. _

 

_ He knelt on the floor beside her and pressed a kiss to her belly. “How is our little monster?” _

 

_ She scoffed. “Don’t call it that? I feel like it can hear you and that’s what’s making this one so difficult.” _

 

_ Gendry sat back, holding the little boy in his arms as he leaned his head on his shoulder. “Still feeling bad?” _

 

_ “Wretched. I can’t tell you how many times I was sick today. Makes it very hard to train with people if I’m dashing off to sick up.” She heaved a sigh. “Not to mention embarrassing.” _

 

_ “Everyone knows you're pregnant.” _

 

_ “But that shouldn’t mean I can’t do things. This is your fault,” she said as she shook a finger at him. _

 

_ He chuckled. “I’m sure you think so, but why is this my fault?” _

 

_ “You practically jumped on me when I told you I’d been given the go-ahead by the maester.” _

 

_ “Six months, Arya. You forget that whenever we had sex you started feeling labor pains!” _

 

_ “I didn’t forget. Besides, I wasn’t complaining that you practically pounced on me. I’m complaining that this baby is making me sick.” _

 

_ He leaned up on his knees, captured the front of her jerkin and pulled her forward for a kiss. “Feel free to complain.” The little boy reached for Arya and she happily took him into her arms and let him snuggle against her chest. She closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his dark head. Gendry put a hand on her swollen belly, letting his thumb trace over it and her hand settled over his.  _

 

_ This was worth living for. _

 

*~*

 

His head was throbbing, his entire body ached, actually. He slowly opened his eyes and found the braziers all lit, but their fires dying. He felt a weight on his thigh and looked down to see Arya’s head resting on him. Her eyes were closed, but even in the light, he could see the circles beneath her eyes. Her knife was in her hand. It nearly made him chuckle to see her holding the blade, trying to protect him even in sleep.

 

Her eyes opened slowly and met his. She sat up in the bed quickly, sheathing her knife as she moved on her knees closer to him. “Gendry,” she whispered, brushing her fingers over his face. “You’re awake.”

 

He nodded and tried to move his left arm, to hold her, but found he couldn’t. He could see black tendrils down his arm almost to his fingers and then across his chest. “I was poisoned.”

 

She nodded. “Stabbed and poisoned. Your lung collapsed. Maester Jueten fixed it. But then we noticed the poison was moving. I’d seen it before, knew the name. He had the remedy,” she said softly, then shook her head. “You bled a lot.”

 

He frowned. “My arm? Will I be able to use it?”

 

She nodded. “It’s already receding. It was down into your fingertips.”

 

He pulled her closer with his right arm and she moved to lie her head on his shoulder. “Are you alright?”

 

She huffed out a breath and nodded. “I’m fine. You’re awake so I’m fine.” She lay beside him and pressed her lips to his. “How do you feel?”

 

“I hurt.”

 

At that, she frowned and lowered her head. “I didn’t see her there. Not until you were falling to the floor,” she whispered. “They found Mary and Natasha’s faceless bodies in their rooms. The Maester thinks they’ve been dead for only a day.”

 

He shook his head. “To experience what they did only to die and be used...”

 

Arya frowned. “You know I did that. I did it to Walder Frey. I took faces...”

 

Gendry shifted in the bed and she put a hand on his chest. “This is so fucking frustrating!” he looked up at her and tugged her against him with this other hand, sighing. “I know what you did and why. Walder Frey was a monster. His whole house. You put an end to them after they killed your mother and brother. I don’t think badly of you for that.” He drew in a careful breath. “But we saw Mary and Natasha in our solar tell us what happened to them. Knowing that, it pains me they were hurt further.”

 

She nodded. “Ser Farring saw to their bodies. Harry and Peeta helped him.”

 

He looked down at her curled against him. “I had some interesting dreams while I was out.”

 

“You remember them?” she asked, lifting her head. “You seemed to squirm more at some points. I thought maybe you were dreaming.”

 

“I dreamed about my father, Stannis, and Renly.”

 

“What about them?” 

 

He sighed. “I don’t really know. It felt real. Like they were really there. My father questioned me about my love for you. Told me I would be what he and his brothers couldn’t. I thought for a long time that I would never want his good opinion of me.”

 

She trailed her fingers over his chest. “And now?”

 

“I don’t think I need it. But it felt good to hear.”

 

“My father would have liked you, I think. I know you met him, but if he had known you, he would have liked you.”

 

He shook his head. “Not so sure about that. I mean, the one time I met him, he told me I did good work, but at the same time, I’m still a bastard even if Jon did...”

 

Her fingers on his lips made him look at her, a frown playing at her mouth. “He would have liked you because I like you. You are the only one for me, Gendry. The only man I could ever want and it’s because you know who I am, the good and the bad, and you love all of it.” She shook her head. “I almost lost you.”

 

Her voice was so soft at the end he barely heard her. “But you didn’t,” he said against her hair. “We’re here and together. I love you.” 

 

She lifted her head and his heart actually hurt to see tears in her eyes. “I love you, too, Gendry.” She leaned her head against his shoulder and curled around him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will get more with Lord Selwyn the next time we visit with Gendry and Arya. More answers are coming, but important chapters are coming up. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and let me know what you think.
> 
> As for the dreams...the mind plays funny tricks on you when it's under the effects of medicine. Believe me, I know. I hope you guys like this chapter and the ones to come.


	83. Jaime XIV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime and Sandor leave camp and head for the Red Keep. Sandor finally squares off against his brother and Jaime faces off with the Mad Queen with disastrous results. 
> 
> **MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, first, to the lovely justwanderingneverlost for the beta work and the mood board. I particularly like the picture of Jaime she used as it actually looks like he's crying. It's just gorgeous! Throw praise all over her.
> 
> A particular scene in this chapter I have had written since around chapter 2. It nagged at me until I got it written down. Now, it has evolved over time as the plot has moved and grown, but the end was always the same. If you have questions or something, please leave them in the comments and I'll answer them. 
> 
> Chapter brought you by the song “Down In A Hole” by Alice in Chains and “Everybody Hurts” by REM.
> 
> **MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS**

**JAIME**

 

Tyrion looked at Jaime with pain in his eyes. They both knew what was going to happen, and though he knew there was no love lost between Cersei and Tyrion, she was still their sister and it was still hard. It was incredibly difficult for Jaime to wrap his head around. He would have to kill her. To protect everyone in the Seven Kingdoms, she needed to be gone. 

 

He walked with Tyrion to his horse. He would be riding out with the Dothraki. “I suppose this is farewell until we’ve both accomplished our tasks. Though, I wonder if you’re ready for yours?” 

 

Jaime looked down at his hand where rested on the pommel of his sword and took a deep breath. “I suppose I’m as ready as I can be.”

 

His brother shook his head. “I wish it wasn’t you; if that makes you feel any better.”

 

He lowered his head and frowned. “No. I think we both know it has to be me.” He knelt to the ground in front of Tyrion. “Be safe.”

 

“And you, brother,” he said before he leaned forward and hugged him. Jaime closed his eyes, hoping Tyrion’s mission would be successful and he’d come back. He’d spent so much of his life wanting to protect his brother and now he couldn’t. He released him and stood once more. Tyrion was helped onto his horse. He gave a nod to Jaime and led his Dothraki guard to the head of the awaiting forces and they rode away. 

 

He felt a presence behind him and turned to see the Hound. “He’s a strong little fucker. He’ll be back.”

 

Jaime nodded and looked at the other man. “I suppose he’s survived all he has thus far. And he didn’t have a horde of Dothraki at his back during those occasions.”

 

“Believe me, you and I are in much more danger than he is,” he said. “Let’s go. We’ve got a boat waiting.”

 

Jaime nodded and he grabbed his armor and followed the larger man to their saddled horses, doing his best to ignore the sick churning of his stomach.

 

***~***

 

As they reached the area where Jaime used to practice with Bronn, he got out first then held the boat in place while Sandor climbed out. He immediately turned back and tilted the rowboat onto its side. They both watched it sink. The only way out now was their death or Cersei’s. The half moon illuminated their way as they walked slowly and carefully up the stairs. Thankfully they were still unguarded. 

 

They stayed in the shadow of the wall that led to the wood where Sansa used to pray. It was a distant memory but he could see her in his mind arguing with Brienne about his vow to Lady Stark. A guard passing by drug him to the present, they watched him come and go. He took notice of the torches lit along the walls across the city. If all went to plan, the people of Kings Landing would turn their gazes to the army that would be outside those walls at daybreak. 

 

“I think we can rest here until dawn, then we’ll need to find our way into the keep and past the two hundred Lannister cunts she piled into the castle,” Sandor said as he removed a pouch at his side and chewed on a piece of jerky.

 

Jaime looked up at the clear sky. “Finally ready to face down your brother?”

 

“Been ready since I was a boy.”

 

“You know he’s technically already dead.”

 

He nodded. “That’s why I’m gonna cut his head off,” he said before he took another bite of jerky. “What about you? Ready to kill your sister? Lover? Whatever?”

 

Jaime hung his head and scratched at the beard he hadn't bothered to shave from his chin. “No. But I’ll do it to keep her from killing others. People I care about.”

 

They were silent for a while, then Sandor’s words caught him off guard. “Why does she want the little bird’s head all the sudden?”

 

Jaime frowned and looked over at him. “You mean Sansa?”

 

He nodded. “Aye. What great sin has she committed that targets her? The Dragon Queen I understand. But Lady Stark is in Winterfell.”

 

“There are spies everywhere. She got some information about Sansa that I’m sure infuriated her.”

 

Sandor didn’t look at him as he removed his wineskin. “Oh? What’s that?”

 

“She discovered our relationship.”

 

Sandor looked at him then, his eyes narrowed in his scarred face. Jaime leaned his head back against the wall and stared at the sky. The last night he’d spent with her it had been snowing. A lovely goodbye that he couldn’t shake. He didn’t want it to be goodbye. He wanted a future with her but doubted she wanted the same. 

 

“You seduce her?”

 

Jaime tilted his head and thought about it. “I-I don’t think so. We fought a lot at the beginning, but then something changed. Not sure what, but it did.”

 

“You love her,” Clegane said, taking a swig from his wine. “I heard what that bastard Bolton did to her. I wish she had left with me when I asked.”

 

Jaime looked at his hand and turned to look at Sandor, frowning. “ _ You _ love her.”

 

He shrugged. “The little bird was terrified of me. Not anymore, but when it mattered...”

 

“Why do you call her that?”

 

Sandor snorted. “I think it’d be obvious to someone like you, given your own sister’s life until she took the role of queen.” He huffed. “She’s a little bird in a cage, made to sing songs and look beautiful for the whims of others. No choice. Simply trapped.”

 

Jaime hung his head and shook it. “She wants to be Lady of Winterfell and she is.”

 

The Hound shrugged. “Anyone ask her if that’s what she wants, now? Does anyone care?” 

 

He did. He cared, a lot, but what could he do? Chances were when this was all over, Jon could decide to kill him for what he did to Bran. Or Bran could have him killed himself. He didn’t see much of this ending the way he wanted. 

 

“Anyway, she could do better than either of us,” Sandor grunted.

 

Jaime nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. “You’re right. Let’s hope she does.”

 

“Or hope she’s fucking happy. Even if she is stuck inside her cage.”

 

***~***

 

By the early morning, shouting could be heard throughout the city. Soldiers ran past them to the far wall. Jaime and Sandor made their way into an abandoned house that sat toward the top of the city. Hidden, they watched the mad dash of the soldiers and their moves to get pitch loaded to the catapults. From what they could make out, the Dothraki, the Northron, and even the Lannister forces were mingled amongst the armies outside the gates. He took a deep breath, seeing the Lannister banner flying with the others. He wondered how the men inside the keep would take that, knowing that some of them could be fighting their own kin. 

 

They stayed inside their refuge, mostly silent except for noticing the changing of the guard and when the path that led down underneath the castle was clear. Jaime went out to get them food and ale only to come back and find Sandor eyeing the castle balcony. “Any sign of her?”

 

“No. But do you know what occurred to me?” When Jaime didn’t respond, he began speaking again, “She could have watched the explosion from her room.” 

 

Jaime had thought of that, only briefly. The little town itself wouldn’t have been all that visible, but the green flames as they leaped to the sky, would have lit up the horizon so she got a view of every last gory flame. He hated to think of his sister being so gone, a person so capable of cruelty in that manner. She blew up the Sept of Balor, though. Nothing should have surprised him. How could he have been so blind to her for so long?

 

He handed over the food and Sandor ate most of it in two bites. Jaime, however, picked at his. The closer he grew to his ultimate goal, the harder it settled on him. His every bone was weary. 

 

He closed his eyes and instead of seeing the familiar green ones that used to soothe his soul, he was haunted by playful blue eyes and lips that teased. He missed her. It had been one of the reasons he had avoided thoughts of her. He didn’t like to admit that every girl with ginger hair turned his head, his heart hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He didn’t want to admit that he dreamed of her and what their life could have been. He wouldn’t be like everyone else. He wouldn’t trap her in a cage. He wanted her to have a choice. 

 

But he knew how stubborn Sansa could be. It was one of the things that attracted him to her most. She was intelligent, stubborn, with a realistic sense of the world and duty. That he hated. He would never want her to believe that what lied between them was nothing more than fancy. He knew when he left what he felt for her, he had almost voiced the words more than once. But it was overwhelming and confusing. He didn’t know how to handle it. He’d only ever been in love with one woman, and he had been so certain and faithful. But Cersei had broken that. He knew Sansa wouldn’t break his faith in her, even her sending him away hadn't. He settled his half eaten food onto the floor and drank wine inside. He needed to drown his sorrows, bring his focus back.

 

“What has you brooding?”

 

“I’m not brooding,” he said as he drank down his wine.

 

“I spent time with Jon Snow. I recognize brooding.”

 

Jaime leaned his head back against the wall and went for distraction. “Think we’ll survive this?”

 

Sandor shrugged. “Maybe. I know my brother dies, whether or not I go out with him is up to me, I guess.”

 

He looked over at him and sighed. “What will you do? Stay on as Royal guard?”

 

Sandor shook his head. “No. I’ve been offered a place. Sounds a little more like what I would want. Help train armies.”

 

“Oh? Where? Who?”

 

He took a sip of his wine. “Storm’s End.”

 

Jaime was silent as he thought about it. If Sandor managed to overtake his brother, that made him the heir to the Clegane hold. But then, that didn’t seem to fit.  “You wouldn’t go to your own hall? Take up as lord of your own keep?”

 

He shook his head and looked away from Jaime. “Nothing but horrible memories of that place. My brother burned my face, my family covered for him. I’m quite done with the Cleganes.”

 

“But not with the Starks or the Baratheons?” he said with a small smile. 

 

He smirked. “Those children need someone to keep them in line. Otherwise, Arya could end up killing half the castle and Gendry will end up back in a forge.”

 

Jaime folded his arms over his chest and nodded, finding that to be an accurate description of the two, at least when he last saw them. He remembered how sad Sansa was for her sister to leave. He nearly groaned out loud, not wanting to think of Sansa, again. “It’s nice that you’re protective of them.”

 

“You gonna eat the rest of that?” Jaime looked down at his barely touched food and held it out to him. “It ain’t nice,” he said after a minute. “The Lord offered me a place to be after all this ended. I figured I’d go see what that’s all about before I make any true choices.” Jaime smiled and sipped at his wine. “What about you? You were in the guard for a long time. Been serving kings and queens as a soldier. You going to go back to that?”

 

He shrugged. “To be honest, I don’t know. I haven’t thought beyond this moment and how hard it would be. And I’m not sure the King or Queen would trust me.”

 

Clegane grunted. “We all fight for something. I’m fighting for revenge. What are you fighting for?”

 

He lowered his head. “Peace.”

 

“Peace doesn’t always last.”

 

“No, but I have a feeling I know what can set it in motion,” he glanced up at the Red Keep.

 

“And the little bird?”

 

Jaime closed his eyes and shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about her or the future because he truly believed her future would exist without him in it. That was a pain he didn’t know how to cope with. He didn’t want her to move on. He wanted her to pine for him as he was for her. “She told me goodbye.”

 

“Hmm, maybe she told you that because her cage needed you to be gone. Besides, haven’t you been fighting alongside the Targaryens and the Starks since we brought that wight to this shit city?”

 

“More or less.”

 

“Maybe that counts for something. At least, the Queen doesn’t want you dead, right?’

 

He shook his head. “She doesn’t seem to. She likes to hear stories about her brother and mother.”

 

“Then maybe you have an ally and you didn’t even realize it. Not to mention your brother is Hand of the Queen. Perhaps he’ll have some sway.”

 

Jaime smiled, thinking of his brother getting to wield the power and influence he always wanted. And both Jon and Daenerys listened to his opinion, valued it highly, along with Davos. They would make a good ruling class. Tyrion understood politics, Jon and Daenerys had the right family name and allegiances, both with eyes set on making the world a better place.

 

“Out of curiosity, what did you think the first time you saw that dragon?”

 

“Drogon? The winged shadow?” Jaime questioned. “Prayed I didn’t shit myself.” He looked up at Sandor and frowned. “We were coming back from the sacking of Highgarden. One of the wagons busted an axel. Some of the men were loafing around. Bronn heard it before I did. The stomping of hooves. We knew she had the Dothraki army, but we thought they were on her island. You hear them long before you see them, screaming, thousands of them. And when they crested the hill, Bronn told me to ride for King’s Landing,” he said with a shake of his head. “We had just defeated an army. I thought that maybe we could hold them, keep them from doing too much damage.” He leaned his head against the wall and stared at the ceiling. “But...that dragon roared...I was terrified, but at the same time, I was amazed. They were real. Living breathing magic in this world. And they were going to destroy us,” he said with an affirmative nod. “I watched that horde and that dragon decimated our troops. I told Cersei then that we couldn’t win this war. She told me that I should know my place.”

 

“Seems you figured it out. You were outside the keep, taking down those White Walkers. Fighting alongside the Targaryen armies.”

 

“Cersei called it  _ treason _ .”

 

“I call her a dumb cunt,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. 

 

Jaime didn’t say anything to that, only let the disappointment and hurt settle into his soul, again. He was so certain she wouldn’t kill him at that moment. He wondered why for so long, but now the why didn’t matter. She had actively sought his death on more than one occasion since. 

 

When night fell they left the abandoned house and circled around the back of the Red Keep. Sandor had to remove his armor to fit through the biggest hole in the grate, but they managed to make it through and into the catacombs beneath the keep, both with their swords in hand should they get attacked. But after a sweep of the room, it seemed to be abandoned. 

 

When he found Sandor, again, he was examining the bolt sticking out of the eye of Balerion the Dread. “Easy to fire these off when the dragon is dead.”

 

Jaime nodded and sighed. “Believe me. I know. When I first became King’s Guard, I was fascinated by these skulls. To see that the monsters had actually existed. Nothing was more impressive to me.”

 

“Now?”

 

“I’ve seen and fought against the real thing. I prefer these.”

 

Clegane climbed inside the skull and sighed. “I’ll take first shift to watch.”

 

He nodded and settled on the opposite end. “Wake me at half.”

 

But tucked within the skull of the largest dragon ever known to exist, he found it difficult to sleep. Haunted by blue eyes, red hair, and a wicked and challenging smile. 

 

***~***

 

They stayed hidden beneath the keep for most of the day. The following morning, their true distraction would appear, the Iron fleet out in the ocean and the dragons outside the wall. He actually looked forward to hearing their roars. It meant they were one step closer to this being done. 

 

They existed off the jerky and water they’d brought with them, talking in hushed tones about the past, how Jaime ended up captured by the Starks, when Brienne was taking him back to King’s Landing and she had bested him with a sword but said it was only because his hands were chained together and he was exhausted. 

 

The Hound looked at him with a beady eye and shook his head. “No, she beat you because she’s that fucking good. She beat me. And I know that she and Arya came to a stalemate.”

 

“How would she fare against Jon Snow, you think?”

 

“He might be able to beat her, but it would be the fight of his life. You saw his battle against his sister, he wasn’t fighting to his full potential and took it easy on her. Don’t know that he would give the same sort of quarter to Brienne.” He huffed out a breath. “And that Tormund fucker would kill Snow for besting his woman.”

 

Jaime shook his head. “Never would have considered Brienne could possibly have feelings for him...”

 

“Because he’s a Wildling?”

 

“Well, yes.”

 

The Hound shrugged. “Did you ever once think you’d be in love with a Stark?”

 

Jaime looked down at his hand. “No. Thought it was impossible.”

 

The sound of numerous men rushing through the room startled them both, but they stayed hidden inside the skull.

 

“If that crazy cunt wants to stay in this castle while dem dragons are outside she can!” one of the men shouted as they ran past. 

 

Qyburn’s voice could be heard as he followed, “Wait! The Queen has a plan!”

 

“FUCK HER PLAN!” another shouted and Qyburn was left alone in the hall of skulls. Sandor nodded for Jaime to sneak out after him. 

 

Sandor stood in the path of the Hand of the Queen. Qyburn held up his hands. “I have no weapon.”

 

“No, but you have the knowledge,” he said as Jaime snuck around behind him. “How is my brother alive?”

 

“He’s...reanimated tissue.”

 

“Magic?”

 

“Science,” he said defensively. 

 

“Can he be killed?”

 

Qyburn leveled a look at him. “Everyone can be killed.”

 

“He’s not so much a person, though. Now, he’s a mindless monster. If I cut his head off, will that do it?”

 

“I suppose you’ll have to fight him to find out.”

 

“It’s a shame you won’t get to see it,” Sandor said as Jaime slit the man’s throat and they both watched him fall to the ground, the gurgling of blood in his mouth intense. 

 

Jaime grabbed one of the torches from the wall and set him on fire. “For good measure.”

 

Sandor turned away and started toward the stairs. They snuck from the bowels of the castle and as they entered the throne room, the Mountain stood in the center, seemingly waiting for them. Sandor tossed the bag with the Targaryen banner in it over his head and dropped it to the ground. “Go see about your sister. I’ll deal with my brother.”

 

Jaime grabbed the satchel and looked at him, a dark chill running down his spine. “I wish you good fortune in the fight to come.”

 

With a nod, Sandor stepped down to the main floor with his brother who had already withdrawn his sword. Jaime hoped Sandor could at least keep him occupied until he was able to get rid of Cersei. 

 

Before he made his way up the stairs, he heard a grunt and a loud thud and clang and turned to see that the Mountain was now missing an arm. He'd heard from a passing soldier that Cersei was in Qyburn's rooms, watching the west as  _ her fleet _ sailed in. She still had no idea that Euron wasn’t in charge of the ships. He slipped into the hidden passage and made his way to the end, but the door wouldn't open. Something was pressed against it on the other side. He pushed with all his might and found a heavy table had been put there to block the way.

 

A voice broke and he turned to see a guard advancing toward him, he managed to kick the table toward the running soldier. It gave him time to remove his sword and he easily sliced his head off. He wiped off his blade and put the Valayrian steel back into its sheath. He put the head on the table beside the balcony that overlooked the west. 

 

The Dothraki were taking the field now, spread out along the western border. And as he focused on the wall, he saw men silently falling as the dark armor of the Unsullied took over each turret and Scorpion. The green dragon soared over the army and Jaime could just make out Jon on top of him. A true Targaryen prince. Then the great black dragon, the one that had given him nightmares for months, circled around the other way, the Dragon Queen atop her fiery steed. They were making their presence known.

 

Jaime reached inside the satchel and removed the Targaryen sigil, placing it on the table. He opened the doors to the patio more, taking in the sight of the army that would sweep through the keep should they fail. But as he looked around the room, seeing empty tureens of wine, turned over goblets, and a man’s clothes beside the bed, he knew his sister would be along shortly. 

 

***~***

 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jaime said from his seat at the table in her bedroom. Her dark eyes met his. They were full of fury but also hope. He had a difficult time believing that she was hoping he would be there on her side. She had to know why he was there.

 

“How did you get in here?” she asked, her tone clipped as she looked at the displaced table and the headless body that lay on the floor. 

 

Jaime turned the head to face her and gave her a small smile. “Only one guard? I’m insulted,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Do you think I don’t know how to sneak around here if I need to? I managed to get into your room while your dearly departed husband was still alive. Managed to impregnate you three times.” He looked down at her stomach and frowned, feeling the anger and disappointment of her lies. “The fourth was a lie.”

 

“I was losing your loyalty. I did what I had to,” she explained, her tone desperate. However, she didn’t move, she simply stayed and stared at him. He could no longer read her. Didn’t know if she was happy to see him or if she truly wanted him dead. Or perhaps both.

 

“You lost my loyalty when you made me break my word. We both saw that dead thing, Cersei. How could you expect me to hide away while that marched for everyone? I did what I had to do. I would have come back to be by your side had you only kept your word.” He shook his head. “But you are not going to lay this at my feet,” he said and stood. “You tried to make me an Oathbreaker again, even though you know it killed me to hear people call me that.”

 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so stupid!” she shouted. “I suppose the dragon bitch and her dog are outside? On those great beasts that my Scorpions are prepared to take down.”

 

“The Dothraki arrived outside the walls this morning. That means your ambush from behind won’t work,” he said softly. “The Mountain, when I left them, was missing an arm as he faced off against his brother, and I killed Qyburn in the bowels of the keep. We have you, Cersei. There is no way to win this. I told you that from the beginning. We couldn’t beat their armies, we couldn’t beat their dragons. And the two of them have not only the Northern forces, but the Neck, and even the Lannister forces from Harrenhal. We also have Euron’s fleet with the Greyjoys in full control. I would like you to surrender...”

 

She shook her head. “You said you loved me.”

 

“I did,” he said as he stepped forward. “I would have moved the world for you, but you stopped listening to me. It became more about power.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Your ambition to be queen overrode good sense. You’re poison to this world and its people.”

 

“ _ Its people _ ? Since when do you care about the  _ people _ ? You’ve only ever been out for yourself. Do the Starks know you nearly killed one of them while he was a child?”

 

“They do,” he answered, still feeling the shame of it in his chest. He thought of Sansa and the accusatory looks she used to give him. But she had changed her opinion. She hated the act, not the man. 

 

“Bonded with them, did you? Oh, yes, I forgot. You replaced me with that little bitch, Sansa. She seduce you? Bring you into her bed and tell you how special it was?” 

 

He took a deep breath and shook his head, knowing she was trying to make him angry. Unfortunately for her, he was resolute in what had to happen. “This has nothing to do with Sansa. This is about you and how you can’t stay on the throne! You can’t! Your people starve and you don’t care. You blew up that inn and killed all of those innocent people. You sent the Golden Company to attack us at the Twins. Harrenhal was a sad attempt. The assassins in Winterfell. You’ve tried every trick you could and you still haven’t managed to take out your enemies. And believe me when I say this; I will show you more mercy than they would.”

 

She shook her head, letting her chin fall to her chest. Tears fell from her eyes. “I never imagined you would be the one to betray me.”

 

He looked at her and stepped forward, furious she could still make his heart ache. “You forced me,” he hissed. “You made me choose between your petty schemes and the good of the people you’re supposed to serve!”

 

With a lift of her head, her eyes flashed with defiance. “I serve no one.”

 

“A king or queen is a servant to their people. At least a  _ good _ one is.”

 

She shook her head and went to the balcony, probably taking in for the first time the trouble she truly was in. It didn't take her long to realize they were surrounded. “You really are a traitor. ‘A lion does not concern...’”

 

“ _ The sheep _ , as you call them, are what would have fought to keep you in power. Now, they call for your head,” he said softly. 

 

“You’ll not take me from my home and deliver me to them!” she turned and practically screamed at him. He hung his head and wiped the moisture from his eyes. “You’ll regret this, Jaime. You’ll regret your betrayal.”

 

He turned to face her. “I regret a lot of things, but not going North. Not fighting for life! It’s one of the greatest pities of this whole thing. You still don’t see it as a fight for life. It’s all or nothing, your way or death. There has to be more choice than that.”

 

The door opened and closed and they both turned to see Tyrion there, a crossbow in hand. Jaime couldn’t believe what he was seeing as he stared at his little brother, even as hot tears pricked his eyes. He was meant to be riding with the Dothraki as ordered by his queen.  _ Why was he here? _

 

Cersei turned hate-filled eyes to Jaime. “This is my end? You’ll let this little monster kill me like he did our mother and father?”

 

“Actually, this was unplanned,” Tyrion answered, his voice shaking and weak, betraying his rather cool demeanor. “I’ve been listening to a man who loves you plead with your small-minded, unworthy views of this world. That man deserves more than you, he always has. You’ve been the poison in his life for far too long.” Jaime watched him, the crossbow raising, and felt a surge of love for his little brother. Only Tyrion could know how difficult this would be for him. “He may hate me for doing it, but I’m going to kill you. Not him. It could never be him,” his voice broke and tears roll down his face. Jaime felt his own sliding down his cheeks.

 

“I should have killed you when you were a babe. I tried,” she spat and then turned to Jaime, “and you stopped me!” Jaime glanced at Tyrion, his chin trembling. Tyrion would kill her to spare him from it, but he knew what the choice was. He’d always known. He had simply failed to make it long ago.

 

He removed the knife from his belt and Tyrion’s eyes softened as he looked at him. He shook his head ever so slightly. Jaime turned Cersei to face him, tears making their way down both of their faces. “One last chance. Surrender,” he urged. “Tyrion and I can argue for a quick death...”

 

A sharp pain burst through in his side. He looked down to see a blade buried just below his ribs. She yanked it out, ripping his side open, her eyes glistening with pure hate, her smile madness. “No one walks away from me.” He slid to the floor, slumped against the wall. 

 

The thwack of an arrow lodging sounded, drawing their eyes to Tyrion. He'd missed. Cersei's screech filled the air as she turned and kicked at Tyrion, knocking the crossbow to the floor and Jaime watched in horror as she took her knife and shoved it into their brother’s heart. He fell to the ground with Cersei on top of him. The blade rang each time she drove it through skin and muscle and bone, a dull thunk as it was buried in the floor. Her heavy pants like that of a savage animal, each movement seemed to be a flurry yet happening in slow motion all at once. She didn't stop until no movement or sound came from his brother. Jaime couldn't tear his eyes away from his blood-splattered face, mismatched eyes staring back at him. A gut-wrenching scream split the room. All he knew was his heart breaking. 

 

His little brother. The man who knew him better than he knew himself, who had tried to protect him and save him from having to do the one thing he didn’t want to do, stared at him lifelessly as a pool of blood spread beneath him. A stream of it seemed to reach towards him through a groove in the stones.

 

Cersei stood, her dress and hands covered in blood. She moved to stand over Jaime, shaking her head. “You always chose the wrong Lannister to back.” She wiped at her face, smearing violent streaks across her cheek. His brother's blood dripped onto the floor from the knife still held in her hand. He looked up at her, his vision awash with tears, realizing he’d never actually seen her. Not the real her. Not the monster that everyone else had seen. She crouched in front of him, her voice soft and calm as she spoke, “I’m not going to kill you, yet. I’ll wait until I get your precious Sansa’s head and serve it to you.”

 

He turned back to Tyrion, dead, his eyes open and watching, his blood still slipping over the stone, something he thought he wanted after his father had died, but now realized was one of his greatest fears come to life. The smug smile on Cersei’s face nearly made him violently ill. He had failed Tyrion during his second trial. He would avenge his death even if he didn't save him from it. Anger clouded his vision as he kicked out his leg and sent Cersei to the floor on her back. He knocked the knife out of her hand and crawled on top of her. His hand was around her throat and he pushed as hard as he could. Sobs wracked him as her hands fought against his, nails tearing at his skin, her body twitching beneath his, her face turning red, then purple. All he could think about was the brother he lost. The one person in the world who loved him unconditionally, who knew his faults and loved him anyway. 

 

She did this! She killed him! She always wanted to! How he hated her!

 

Tyrion always told him she was mad, power hungry, caring nothing for anyone but herself and her children. He should have known when Tommen died and she just...she wasn’t the woman he once loved. This was a monster. He’d faced down monsters before. He would kill the biggest threat to the realm since the Mad King. 

 

Jaime didn’t know how long he choked her, hot streaks of tears rolling down his face. Only when the Hound entered the room, bleeding from his head, and pulled him off of her did he realize he was shaking. He crawled to Tyrion as best he could and cradled his brother’s ravaged body in his arms and wailed. He ignored the pain in his side, the weakness in his bones. All that mattered was his brother, his little brother had tried to protect him and Jaime had failed him. He failed them all. 

 

“Lannister, where’s the banner?”

 

He barely registered the question but through his grief-stricken haze gave a nod toward the table. Clegane then left him alone. He brushed a hand over Tyrion’s hair, tried to wipe the blood from his face, but his hand was covered in it, he was only making it worse. “I’m so sorry, brother,” he whispered over and over again, pressing his brow to Tyrion's. He remembered when he was a baby and he'd been allowed to hold him. He'd promised he would always be there to protect him, be the knight Tyrion wanted him to be. And the one person who believed in him most in the world was the one Jaime had let down in the biggest way. His grasp grew weaker, his vision blurred and grew dark, but he still held on. 

 

The door opened again, he barely made out Jon Snow before he fell backward and blackness took him. Off in the distance, he heard a woman scream and it made his already broken heart shatter into a million pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you don't hate me, but this is just how I thought it had to go. 
> 
> We can discuss it further in the comments section.


	84. Daenerys XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys and Jon rally with their troops and the horrifying discovery of Tyrion and how to move on from that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I know that the last chapter was really hard. This one won't be any easier. Daenerys is not going to deal with this well. Be prepared. Parts of this were very hard to write to the point where even I cried. I have brothers and I can't imagine the horror and pain I would feel to lose one of them. Even imagining it caused me to physically ache. So, I can easily put myself in Dany and Jaime's shoes with their loss of Tyrion.
> 
> Next chapter is Jon. I don't know if I will get his chapter out tomorrow, but then I didn't expect to finish this one today, so who knows. I have been making some really good headway with "Catch Us Where We Sleep" so hopefully an update by the end of this week beginning of next week. "Dangerous Woman" as well. I had three fics opened at once today. Craziness.
> 
> The gorgeous mood board for this chapter is made by the talented justwanderingneverlost who also did the hard beta job on this chapter. She really helps me to flesh out emotions and stuff. She's so good, you guys. Go read her fics, starting with "How We Heal". She's amazing. Really.
> 
> To my lovely tarts (FrostBitePanda, Meisie, justwanderingneverlost, Jaqtkd, Sparkles59, and NoOrdinaryLines)! You're my girls who have helped get me through a really rough patch in my life. It feels like I'm finally starting to see the sun, and I know I have you guys there to have my back and I will always have yours. Love you all tons!
> 
> This chapter is brought to you by the song "Heart Of Stone" by Iko.

**DAENERYS**

 

She took in a deep breath of air as she exited her tent, Jon at her side. She was immediately nuzzled by Drogon and Rhaegal and nearly cried to feel the comforting presence of her sons. She stroked each affectionately, having missed them both. She was dressed in layers, the top being the armor that Jon had made for her, a chest plate that would protect not only her heart but her belly. 

 

She felt a hand at the small of her back and turned to see Jon smiling at her. “They missed you as much as you missed them.”

 

She giggled and shook her head. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

 

“A scout has reported that the Dothraki are riding back this way and will meet with the rest of our forces outside the gates. You and I are going to fly to the forces already outside. We’re waiting to see the Targaryen banners hang from the turrets and the one from the main keep. Once we see that, the Unsullied should open the gate.”

 

“We know they successfully got in?”

 

“We do,” he said with a smile. 

 

She took another deep breath. “Then let’s get to our people.” She turned at Missandei and Dari and hugged both women. “Be safe.”

 

“Khaleesi is strong. She will win battle. Get a new braid,” Dari said.

 

“Perhaps one for my king as well,” she teased.

 

“You’re not braiding my hair,” he huffed, rolling his eyes as he pet over Rhaegal’s snout. “Come, my Queen.”

 

She took his hand and Drogon lowered his wing for her to step and she got into position. It caused her hips to ache so she adjusted. Drogon waited for her to do so then took to the air. Jon climbed onto Rhaegal as he ordered the rest of the troops to move out. 

 

Daenerys went over the water, seeing the fleet coming in closer. She heard the cheer from the men below and relished in the air against her face.  _ It’s been too long, my son _ . She went around the city and met up with Jon as he and Rhaegal landed. The Unsullied began to pound their spears against the ground and Daenerys felt a swelling of pride for her people. She was going to protect them all. She would make new lives for them, avenues where they would find happiness and peace. She looked over at Jon who had climbed from his Rhaegal and was meeting with Rat Tail, the leader of the Unsullied, one of the Lannister men, and Lord Cerwyn. 

 

“The Dothraki should be here within the hour,” Lord Cerwyn declared. Daenerys looked up at the walls of the Red Keep, the home of her ancestors. The place where her father drew his last breath. Her forefathers had ruled here for hundreds of years and it was almost within her grasp. 

 

Hooves thundered upon the ground, brutal screaming rising above, her horde known before they ever burst through the trees. That was one of the terrifying things about them. They intimidated you with their encroaching presence before they were ever seen. Suddenly, two banners along the walls dropped from the Lannister lions and were replaced with the black and red sigil of House Targaryen. Her heart soared as little by little the turrets were taken over, lions replaced by dragons.

 

The Dothraki soon joined the troops. She turned and looked at the group, waiting for a report from Tyrion. But as she looked amongst them, she didn’t see him and worry began building within her chest. “My King, find Tyrion,” she called out to Jon. He looked around and ordered the men to fan out and find the Hand of the Queen. 

 

It took entirely too long for Jon to come back to her and usher her down from Drogon. She feared the worst. She climbed down slowly as Drogon made a series of clicks and nudged her gently with his large head. Jon didn’t touch her, but the expression on his face was grave, his brow wrinkled, mouth grim. “Tyrion left them last night.”

 

Her heart stuttered. “What do you mean?”

 

“His guard said he had some map,” he said as he leveled a worried look at her, “and told them he was going to return it to you, that it was an emergency. When they tried to follow, he hid from them. They looked for him all night, but they couldn’t find him.”

 

“He had Arthur’s map,” she said softly. She looked up at the Red Keep, ice filling her veins. “Tyrion!” 

 

*~*

 

She paced, wanting to rub her hands over her belly, a way of soothing herself, but she couldn’t because of the blasted armor. Tyrion had gone off and could be dead somewhere inside the city. She should have known he wouldn’t allow Jaime to go to the keep by himself. She should have known how deep his hatred for Cersei ran. 

 

Her breath was unsteady until she saw the Targaryen sigil hang from the balcony of the Red Keep. She stopped her pacing and Jon joined her. The gates opened and the Unsullied stood themselves along the path inside. “We have to see if he’s there,” she whispered to Jon.

 

“We’ll find him, then we’ll throw him in the cells for worrying us both,” he said after sending the Dothraki to the Dragon pit. 

 

They entered the Red Keep and walked into the throne room. Dany took it in, the enormous room where her ancestors had sat and ruled. In the center lay the bleeding body of The Mountain. He was missing an arm and his head lay closer to the throne than it did to his fallen form. The smell nearly made her vomit. The wretched stench of rotted flesh and blood was more than some of the soldiers could take, a few turning away to be sick. The dead man’s corpse was taken from the room, the Unsullied discussing where to burn the body. 

 

She turned her attention once more to the Iron Throne, trying to think of anything but the danger Tyrion had put himself in. Rulers of the past, her family, sat on that throne. Some good, some bad, some completely mad, like her father. And there it was, in front of her. 

 

Jon shook his head. “So much death for this throne.”

 

“It’s ours now.”

 

The Unsullied moved through the keep, fighting could be heard and Jon removed the sword at his side, prepared to protect his queen. But as quickly as the sounds had started, they were gone and the Unsullied guards came down the hallway with dead Lannister soldiers being drug behind them. 

 

Jon took her hand in his, obviously sensing her worry for Tyrion. She would have thought he would have met them in the throne room. A rush of panic burst within her chest and she turned to her husband. “Get this armor off of me,” she gasped. “I can’t breathe.”

 

The Unsullied that we’re in the throne room formed a barrier between them and anyone else who would filter in. Once the chest piece was removed, her cloak closed in around her and he handed off the armor to one of the guards. She tried not to fidget with her hands as the path was finally cleared higher into the keep and they followed the line of her soldiers that formed along the stairs. Rat Tail met her in front of a long hallway. “Imposter Queen is dead.”

 

Daenerys nodded. “Take me. Is Tyrion there?” she asked, pushing past him but the Hound appeared in the doorway. He blocked her view and lowered his head. She noticed he was bleeding from his side and was also missing an ear. “You need a Maester.”

 

“You don’t want to go in there,” he warned. Her breath caught in her throat and she knew it without seeing. Her body began to shake as she put a hand on Jon's chest even as his hand latched around her arm. “My queen, perhaps–”

 

“Step aside,” she ordered softly, hearing the waver in her own voice. Jon entered first and the clang of metal echoed through the room. Jon rushed forward and knelt beside Jaime. Dany had no control, a scream ripped from her lungs at seeing Tyrion lying lifeless in his brother’s arms. She was on the floor beside him before she even realized she'd moved. A wretched sob escaped her as she took his hand and turned his face to hers, but she was unable to see him as tears streamed down her face. 

 

“Get Sam!” Jon called as he and the Hound worked to remove Jaime’s armor. 

 

She pulled Tyrion into her arms, rocking back and forth. Her friend, her advisor, her  _ brother _ was dead. She pressed her head against his, only looking up when Missandei wrapped her arms around her. The two women cried together, her heart breaking to think that he was actually gone. They carried Jaime out of the room followed by Cersei. But when they tried to take Tyrion from her arms she fought them off, pushing everyone away, screaming at them.

 

It was the warm touch of Jon’s hands against her face that made her look up, tears rolling down his own. “Let them take him, love. We’ll keep a guard with him.”

 

She shook her head. “H-he wasn’t supposed to be here, Jon!”

 

He brushed away her tears. “I know. I know. But let them take him and clean him up. He doesn’t...deserve to look like this,” he said softly. She looked around, finding Davos, Missandei, Rat Tail and Dari all in the room. She placed a last kiss on his scarred forehead and released him. The Dothraki moved forward and carried his body from the room. 

 

“Find me an empty bedroom,” Jon ordered. “And bring clean clothes for the Queen.” 

 

He pulled her into his arms and the sobs came back to wrack her body. Her husband knew she wouldn’t be able to stay in that room. The whole thing would need to be demolished so it looked nothing like it currently did. When the Unsullied announced they had found a room, Jon picked her up and carried her into it. She didn’t realize how much blood was on her until she was left looking at her hands. Missandei and Dari were helping to rid her of her clothes. She rubbed at her arms, trying to get rid of it, panicking when it wouldn’t go away but seemed to spread.

 

“Your Grace!” Missandei said, her voice concerned as Daenerys pulled at her clothes. Jon appeared in front of her then producing a knife and cut her out of the bloody clothes, even removing her boots. 

 

He urged her to sit on the bed and took the wet linen from Dari and scrubbed her hands. “This is just until we can get you a bath,” he whispered. It took him three bowls of water until her hands and arms were clean enough that she wasn’t seeing it drip from her fingers any longer. She looked at her hands, still able to see remnants of blood on them and again rubbed them together to get rid of the blood. Jon dropped the linens to the floor and took her hands.

 

“Stop, Dany,” he said softly. “Stop! I know,” he leaned his forehead against hers and let out a shaky breath. “I know.”

 

She began sobbing again and fell into his arms. Her head hurt, her heart was a searing hole within her chest, and she wanted to feel none of it. She was so angry! At Tyrion for not being where he was supposed to and following his brother. At Jaime for letting him die. She hated Cersei with an ache and pain that were so powerful she feared she might be the one to burn the world, not Drogon or Rhaegal. 

 

The pressing kicks of her babes and a slight pressure in her abdomen caused her to pull back from Jon and look down at her belly. He looked at her in concern. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Just...tightness.”

 

“Dari,” he called over his shoulder. The door opened and in came the Dothraki midwife and Missandei. 

 

“They’re moving around but...it’s contracting,” she said.

 

Dari nodded. “Onto the bed, Khaleesi.” They soon had another visitor in the form of Ghost who took up residence beside her. Jon shooed him away, but Dany sunk her fingers into his thick white fur, finding comfort in his presence. Her husband grew quiet as he sat beside her on the bed and held her hand. The midwife looked up and sighed. “Bed. Until sun up.”

 

Dany shook her head. “There’s too much to do...”

 

Jon heaved a sigh. “We’ll call...our...” He hesitated on the word council because, like her, the thought of having one without Tyrion seemed foreign. She squeezed his hand as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. He struggled to clear his throat. “We’ll get you cleaned up and have our council meet in here. We’ll delegate and make sure the people are cared for.” Daenerys felt like she was going to start sobbing again. “We still need a bath for Her Grace,” he called. 

 

Clegane appeared in the doorway. “There’s one attached,” he said softly. 

 

Jon pulled the blanket at the end of the bed over her. “What happened?” she whispered.

 

He lowered his head and she saw stitches on the side where his ear used to be. He was no longer wearing his armor, but a light tunic that did more to make him appear taller than the armor had. “Jaime and I killed Qyburn and then met my brother in the throne room. You saw his body?”

 

She nodded. “We did.”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t know exactly what happened. All I know is that when I came into the room, Tyrion was dead and Jaime was pressing on her throat with all his weight. Even with his bad arm.” He sighed. “When I finally got him off of her, he crawled over and held his brother. I got the banner out and just...left him until I heard the Unsullied coming. Wasn’t until he passed out that we realized he’d been stabbed.”

 

“Stabbed?” Jon questioned. 

 

Sandor demonstrated that it was just beneath his ribs. “A little blade. Not meant to kill, at least not a grown man. I thought all the blood was Tyrion’s...”

 

“Did you know he was here?” she asked fiercely. 

 

He shook his head. “Not until I walked into that room. Jaime and I had been alone for days and we never saw him.”

 

Daenerys swiped at her eyes. “Thank you, Sandor.”

 

“You’re welcome, Your Grace,” he said with a bow of his head. 

 

Jon looked at a tearful Dari and sighed. “Can I put her in the bath?”

 

She nodded. “I want her to not walk.” 

 

He nodded. “Keep everyone out of here until I tell you differently,” he ordered her and Missandei. “Where is Davos?” he asked.

 

“He’s overseeing that the people are being fed. Many of them were starving while being locked in the city. Yara and Theon are helping him,” Missandei responded.

 

He turned to Dany, looking just as lost as she felt, dark shadows under his sad eyes. “Alright. Missandei and Dari, find where they’ve taken Jaime and see if Sam needs help. Tell the guard outside the door where you are in case we need you,” Jon issued the orders and she was grateful for it. All she could think of was her friend lying dead in her arms and how his blood still covered her skin. “Bring a table in here and set it for dinner when the sun begins to set. Unless I call for it, I don’t want to see anyone in this room.”

 

Missandei gave Dany one last hug before she left the room with Dari. Jon pulled her into his arms and carried her into the attached bathhouse. He quickly got the coals heating and figured out how to get the water going. “Dany?”

 

She looked up at him from her perch on the side of the ornate tub. He leaned down and kissed her cheeks, realizing she was crying again. He sat in front of her, pulling her as close as her body and his armor would allow. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly. She breathed him in, sweat, something earthy, and the smell of snow that seemed to follow him at all times. He stood and began trying to remove his armor, and she was thankful for the distraction, pulling on the straps that he couldn’t reach. Each piece clanged noisily to the floor. She watched each one drop.

 

“I like you better in blue,” she commented. He was silent and she looked up at him. He held his red gambeson in his hands. “What is it?”

 

His dark eyes looked at her, tears pooling in their depths. “Tyrion had this made for me, so I’d look more like a Targaryen in the colors...thought it sent a more united message if both of us wore red and black.”

 

She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked away from him. This was her new reality, a world in which Tyrion, her beloved friend, was dead. She hated this world. He had believed in her, wanted to see her on the throne. Believed in the world she wanted to build, and now he wouldn’t be there to see it. She smoothed her hand over her belly, needing comfort from her small family. Jon stripped out of his clothes and climbed into the bath, then helped her in, bringing her to sit across his lap. She buried her face in his neck, trying to will away the tears that seemed determined to come. Jon’s fingers traced over her neck and checked on the stitches at the back of her head and her left shoulder. He seemed as if he was trying to busy himself, needed a distraction as much as she did.

 

“Jon?” she whispered.

 

“Yes, my love?”

 

She shook her head and her face fell. “How are we going to do this without him?”

 

His hands quit their worrying and held her tighter, one resting over her belly. “We'll do it because we have to,” he said softly. “We’ll still have a council. People to help us...and each other.”

 

Her fists clenched. She wanted to hit something, anything to ease her torment. “I’m so angry with him,” she whispered. “How...how could he do that?”

 

Jon leaned his head against hers and rocked her a bit. “He loved his brother. I probably would have done the same for any of my siblings.”

 

She lifted her head, her whole body shaking in anger. “He disobeyed me! I sent him with the Dothraki for a reason and he–”

 

Jon captured her face in his hands and she stopped mid-rant. “Dany...”

 

“I..if he had followed my orders he would still be alive,” she cried. 

 

He pulled her back into his arms, allowing grief to take them both.

 

*~*

 

An hour later Jon had her back in the bedroom, in a linen shift, resting on her side with a pillow tucked beneath her belly, Ghost pressed against her back. He had opened the windows to let her look out at their kingdom, but her thoughts were consumed with Tyrion. The last time she had seen him had been at their council meeting, with tears in his eyes thankful she had survived. 

 

Viserys and Rhaegar had been her brothers in name, but Tyrion had become her brother in action and familiarity. She loved him, knew he only wanted the best for her and the kingdom. She trusted him and his opinion. These wars had cost too much, and as she watched her husband allow men in with a table and platters of fruit, she knew that it had been Tyrion’s own vows that Jon was a good man that had made her summon him to her. He always pushed for an alliance between the two but had worried about their relationship and what that would mean for his role on her council. They butted heads, as was probably expected of the Queen and her Hand. But he did everything to make her a better ruler, to help her see things from another side. 

 

She wanted to know what happened. She hoped Jaime lived to tell her how his brother ended up dead yet he lived. Tyrion had loved nothing in the world as much as he loved his brother. And now Jaime was as she had been, alone. The last of her kind. At least, she thought she had been the last. Jon was walking around the room in his bare feet, his tunic hanging free from his trousers, and his riotous curls loose around his head. He joined her on the bed, placing the platter he’d made on the table beside her and helped her into a sitting position, propping pillows behind her. He handed her the food and sat beside her his head in his hands before he looked up at the city. 

 

She hadn’t taken a bite, just watch him, and as if he could feel her gaze he turned to her and sighed. “Eat,” he ordered, then stood again, pacing to the window and leaning against the wall where he could see her and the city. “A million people live here, Dany. A million lives we have to try to make better.”

 

She nibbled on a bite of bread and then cheese. “Can you see what’s happening?”

 

He took a deep breath. “The Dothraki are coming back from the Dragon Pit, Drogon is flying over them. There are lines of people along the streets and the Unsullied are amongst them but I can’t make out what’s happening. And Rhaegal has settled himself into the garden below us. He’s rolling around again.”

 

She put her hand over her belly as the babies moved. “I feel his pain.”

 

“How long do dragons stay pregnant?”

 

She shrugged. “I don’t know.” When she finished the bread and cheese, she took a deep breath and fought back more tears. “I want to talk about Tyrion and Cersei.”

 

Jon turned to face her and his dark eyes felt like they were burning her. “You’re relaxed and calm, my love. We don’t have to, right now.”

 

She took another deep breath. “We’re the King and Queen, now, and we must make hard decisions even during hard times,” she responded. “My initial angry reaction is to cut off Cersei’s head, put it on a spike to show the world. But I want the people of our world to be less bloodthirsty and so I believe that heads on spikes only reinforces bad habits.”

 

He folded his arms over his chest and sighed. “So, what do we do instead? Burn her?”

 

She shook her head. “She doesn’t deserve a funeral pyre. I think we should send her to Casterly Rock to be buried in the halls of her father.”

 

Jon tilted his head in confusion, his brow wrinkled. “Why?”

 

“I want to break the wheel. That means I have to think outside of it and what my instincts would be.”

 

“And you mean to send Tyrion back to that?”

 

Dany shook her head and stared at her fingers. “I once told him that I liked him because he wasn’t a hero. But he is.” She swallowed the painful lump in her throat. “Was. He tried to save his brother,” she said, trying to keep the tears at bay and nearly failing. She lifted her head. “And as he is a hero, he deserves a hero’s pyre.”

 

Jon sighed. “We’ll need to discuss it with Jaime.”

 

“Why?” she snapped.

 

He crossed the room to sit beside her and took her hand in his. “You hated Viserys and watched him die. But you still had say in what happened to his body, didn’t you?” She nodded reluctantly. “Rickon was killed in front of me. Robb...when they killed him, they cut his head off and sewed his direwolf’s on in its place. I would have done anything to make sure that he had been laid to rest as Rickon had been. Jaime, for all his faults, loved his brother and has been loyal to us since he rode to fight the dead.” He paused and held her other hand. “He saved your life at the Twins. And he watched his brother be killed by his sister. I think...the right thing for us to do is to at least ask him.”

 

“And if he says ‘no’?”

 

He sighed. “Well, you can be convincing when you want something.”

 

“I don’t know that I can talk to him...”

 

“You can, but not today. You’re to rest and you will. Davos and the others are seeing to our requests for the people and the armies. The Dothraki are choosing to set up outside the walls. The one person who has requested an audience with you is Yara.”

 

“Immediately?”

 

“No. I put her off until tomorrow morning. Given that she’s very pregnant as well, I think she understood better than anyone, the need for rest.”

 

*~*

 

Exhaustion had settled into her bones weighing them down like stones into water. She, nor Jon, had slept much that night. Jon pacing back and forth from the window to the bed while she shifted from side to side. When he did lay beside her, she cried, thoughts of her lost friend overwhelming her. When she stopped, Jon would climb from the bed again, taking up his restless pacing. Ghost kept his great head near her, offering his fur for her to tangle her fingers in. He was a quiet companion compared to the wolf she married that walked with the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

 

But now, she was sitting up at the meeting table, dressed as the Queen Tyrion had always believed her to be. She felt more like the girl she had started as, terrified and unsure of the next steps. Jon sat beside her, wearing the black and red jerkin that had been made for him as it matched her black dress and red cape. They looked the part, even if, at the moment, she felt like the worst queen that could have existed. She knew she was taking the incident with Tyrion harder than she probably should, but losing him was worse than losing her brother. It was as if she had watched Viserion, her son, die again, so deep was the wound in her heart.

 

A knock sounded at the door and Missandei and Davos entered the room followed by Yara and Theon. Daenerys gave her a small smile as Theon pulled out the chair for his sister. She sat gingerly. Her hand rubbed over her own belly, quite farther along than Dany. “Theon and I have been catching up on events through your soldiers, Your Grace. You walked through Wildfire?”

 

Daenerys couldn’t believe that even that event seemed like a lifetime ago. She self-consciously thought about her hair, but dismissed the thought as quickly as it had come, finding that this was no time for vanity. “Cersei laid a trap and I walked into it. Then out of it.”

 

Yara frowned. “We saw the explosion out on the water. The green flames were pretty high.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m sorry about your Hand, Lord Tyrion. He had a quick mind.”

 

“And a quicker tongue,” Theon added with a fond smile. 

 

Daenerys smiled at them both, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. “I’m glad you’re both here. The Iron Islands will fare well under your care.”

 

The siblings looked at one another, Theon keeping his head down. “My brother still wishes to reside in the North. I will be Queen of the Iron Islands.”

 

Jon spoke for the first time, frustration etched in his tone. “Theon, you know that the North will not… You betrayed their king at a critical time during the war. You sent Bran and Rickon out into the world when they were just boys and burned two innocent children alive to cover for it. Rickon ended up in the hands of the Umbers who turned him over to Ramsay which led to his death.” He heaved a sigh. “You grew up there. You know they don’t forget.”

 

Theon nodded and looked at Jon. “I know. I don’t want a castle or...I just want to live out the rest of my life in peace. Where I can raise a child,” he said softly.

 

Jon glanced at Daenerys. They frowned at one another. “What do you mean?” she asked.

 

“I have no intentions of raising this baby,” Yara announced. “I’ll eventually have to make arrangements and marry someone to carry on the Greyjoy name, but I don’t want it to be any part of Euron. Theon, however, has offered to take the child and raise it. I’ve only agreed to that if he can find somewhere suitable.”

 

Jon rubbed a hand over his brow and looked at Yara. “Will you wait to have the child here? Under our midwife and maester?”

 

Yara nodded. “I think I’m too close to having this baby to feel safe getting on a ship. With your permission, we’d stay until the child is here.”

 

Daenerys nodded and put her hand on her own belly, feeling her daughters kick and move within her. “Of course. We will see that you have every comfort. As for the rest of it, give Jon and I some time to talk it over, even correspond with Bran and Sansa as they run the North. We’ll see if we can come to an accord.”

 

“I can live with that,” Yara agreed. “Congratulations, Your Graces, on successfully taking back your family’s throne.”

 

“And congratulations to you,  _ Your Grace _ , on being the first Queen of the Iron Islands,” Dany returned. “I hope our alliance continues to be fruitful.”

 

Yara gave her a nod before Theon stood and helped her up. They left the room and Missandei and Davos took their empty seats. “She’s going to kill that child if you don’t agree to her terms,” Davos said softly.

 

Jon nodded. “That was her plan, anyway. Theon agreeing to take care of it is different.” He looked over at Daenerys and heaved a sigh. “I’ll send a raven, later, to Sansa and Bran and see what they think.”

 

She nodded and pushed herself into a standing position, the other three stood as well. “Now, someone take me to see Jaime Lannister.”

 

*~*

 

Daenerys gripped Jon’s arm as they were bid to enter. The man sitting up in bed looked as wretched as she felt. She released her husband’s hand as she moved into the room. Jaime glanced up at them, turning immediately away from her probing gaze. “Your Graces,” he said softly.

 

He had bandages wrapped around his middle, his eyes were red and puffy, and there still seemed to be traces of blood around his fingernails. She turned her eyes away from it and realized she would have to be the first to speak. “Did you know he was coming?”

 

Jaime looked up at her, his green eyes flashed with something close to anger, but it dripped down into guilt and despair. “No,” he whispered. “I never would have let him.”

 

“Tell me what happened,” she nearly pleaded, wanting to understand how Tyrion came to be there when he shouldn’t have been. “Tell me all of it,” her voice cracked.

 

Jaime looked down at his hand, his chin trembling. He was no more in control of his emotions than she. “Sandor and I got into the castle like I said we would. We hid beneath the keep, with all the dragon skulls for a day and then the soldiers were running out and Qyburn was there. Found out that the Mountain could be killed and I slit Qyburn’s throat.” He moved his hand over the scruff of his beard and Dany wanted to make him talk faster so she could understand sooner. She might then be able to push the ache away. “When we got into the throne room, the Mountain was there and Sandor sent me off to deal with Cersei. We’d heard she was in the tower of the Hand watching your armies. I snuck into her room and waited. Killed a guard that was there...”

 

He shook his head. “I tried to reason with her. Get her to see that surrender was the best option for everyone, but she...was too far gone. Madness.” He took a moment to compose himself and when he looked up at her she was caught by his green eyes filled with so much pain. “Tyrion came in with his crossbow and told us that he was there because he couldn’t let me be the one to kill her. That I might hate him for it, but it...it couldn’t be me.” He dropped his head and she watched as tears rolled down his face. He took several deep breaths, wiping at his face before he could continue. “I knew what he was going to do and I still tried to persuade her to surrender. Then she stabbed me. I heard the crossbow fire, but he missed and then...she...she was on him.” He looked as if he stopped breathing, then a sob left him. “She taunted me,” he cried. “Told me no one walks away from her. That she would let me live until she had Sansa’s head to serve me.”

 

He shook his head. “I don’t...I don’t remember a lot after that. I remember holding him.” He’d stopped wiping at his tears, just let them fall. “I failed him. The only person in my entire life who ever loved me without reason or wanting something out of it...and I failed him.” He looked up at her, all the heartbreak she felt written across his face. “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. He deserved a better brother than me.”

 

She took a deep breath and wiped at her eyes, watching Jon who was staring out at the city, his back to both of them. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said finally. “If I knew anything about Tyrion it was that he loved you. Whether or not you believe you deserved it, he did.” 

 

“He seemed to have a special place in his heart for hopeless cases.” 

 

She took another steadying breath and moved a chair closer to his bed and sat down. “I’m not going to mount your sister’s head on a pike, though no one deserves it more,” she said softly. “Tyrion and I talked a lot about breaking the wheel, making the world a better place, and we have to do that in leading by example. I want to send her remains to Casterly Rock.”

 

Jaime seemed conflicted at this news but nodded. “And Tyrion?”

 

She shook her head. “I would not send him to the halls of your family who hated him.” At this, Jaime looked down at the cover of his bed. “He was a hero. Brave, foolish, like all the other heroes I know.” She sighed. “In the North and in the Dothraki customer, they give them funeral pyres. I would give Tyrion such a pyre that the world will remember him forever.” Her voice wavered as she gave voice to her heart, “I would let him be with the stars, where he can mock us all for how he could do it better. But, I won’t do that unless it is what you wish. You were his brother. I’ll leave it you.”

 

Jaime sat forward and hesitantly took her hand. Tears leaked from his eyes and dripped onto the cover, but the strength of his grip settled her. “And you were his  _ real _ sister. Tyrion believed in you and he never believed in anything. Nothing would give him greater satisfaction than knowing he can watch us and judge us at all times. Give him your heroes pyre. He took down the Mad Queen.”

 

She took a shaky breath and squeezed his hand back. “Thank you.”

 

He shook his head. “Thank you for asking. You didn’t have to.”

 

She looked at Jon who still stood silently near the window, but she could see the shiny tracks of tears on his face. “I think our three families have done enough damage to this world. It’s time we start to repair some of it. And that starts with one another.”

 

Jaime nodded and released her hand. “He wasn’t wrong to believe in you. Thank you, Your Grace.”

 

“I would ask that you stay in the city until our coronation.”

 

He looked down at bandages. “I don’t think your maester will allow me to leave before that.”

 

She nodded and held a hand out to Jon as he helped her stand. “Rest well, Jaime,” she said before Jon led her out of the room. They made it a few feet down the hallway before she stopped him and wrapped her arms around his middle, pouring out her grief once more. 

 

*~*

 

She sat on the balcony that overlooked the water, her feet propped up on one of the other chairs, a small plate balancing on her belly. The grapes it held rolled around as her daughter’s kicked. Jon joined her, his fingers tracing over her shoulder as he pulled up another chair beside her. “I sent off the raven,” he said softly as he took her hand and watched in amusement as the plate was wobbled. “Why must you pester them?” he questioned as he took the plate and set it on the table. He replaced it with his hand, then leaned down to place a kiss on her belly.

 

“We’ll need to establish a true council. I’m sure Tyrion had ideas on who would best fit...”

 

“Will you appoint another Hand?” he questioned.

 

She looked up at him and shook her head. “No. Do you think Davos would like to serve us both?”

 

He smiled at her and squeezed her hands. “I think we can ask him tomorrow. He, Varys, and Missandei are working on the details of our coronation. Why did you ask Jaime to stay?”

 

She sunk down in her chair even more and frowned. “I want to make him Warden of the West. Give him back Casterly Rock, send some of the Unsullied, if they’ll go, with him as his guard. And encourage him to find a wife that would help unite the kingdom.”

 

Jon hung his head. “So, you’ll offer my sister to him since you feel bad about Tyrion?”

 

Her eyes narrowed. “If you think that, then you don’t know me like I thought you did.”

 

He held up a hand and looked at her. “I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “The North won’t allow him back there. They won’t let a Lannister ever take seat in Winterfell. The North Remembers.”

 

“So does a Targaryen. I remember Jaime fighting for the North. I remember he almost died to protect them. He fought assassins within Winterfell’s halls. He saved my life at the Twins. He rode in with you at Harrenhal and took what Lannister troops he could. And he snuck into the Red Keep to kill his sister,” she said firmly. “He tried to murder your little brother, and so that part is up to Bran. But I believe your sister’s fate should be up to her.”

 

Jon released a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I know. I know all that he’s done. Perhaps the compromise is that he’s banished from the North, but if Sansa wants him, she has to go to him.”

 

She nodded. “I think that’s fair. And it lets her decide. Would you approve of it?”

 

He shook his head and took her hand back. “Sometimes, you ask too much.”

 

“You’re King, now. You can say yes or no. Doesn’t mean I have to like it. But I’ll honor your decision.”

 

He brought her hand to his lips. “I’ll let Sansa decide. Too many people have made decisions about her life that have tormented her. If it’s a mistake, then it will be a mistake she’ll have to live with.”

 

She leaned forward and kissed him. “You’re going to be a very good King.”

 

He snorted. “Are you saying that because I agreed with you or because you actually believe it?”

 

“The second one,” she said softly. “I love you, Jon. I told you, when we first met, that I didn’t believe in Gods or men. And I’ve told you since that you made me change my view.” She looked down at their joined hands. “I doubt how good I’ll be as a queen. But I don’t doubt how good you’ll be as a king, a husband, or a father. Whatever I did in this world to deserve you, I am thankful for it every day. Even when I’m furious with how stubborn you can be, I’m always,  _ always _ , thankful for you.”

 

He turned her chair to face him and moved to his knees in front of her. He pressed his lips against her belly then looked up at her with watery eyes. “I never doubt you,” he whispered. “I haven’t since that day on the beach. You turned to me, someone who was barely your ally and asked my opinion. I wasn’t part of your council. You barely tolerated me,” he said with a slight laugh, “but you asked for my advice. Not to save face in front of me, but because you care about what happens to the people in this world. That’s when I knew you were what was best. I didn’t want to rule. And when I’ve doubted myself because of my family, the war, the politics that go along with it, there was always you. Steady and sure. Finding you, loving you, has been the greatest joy I have ever known and I will cherish every second I have with you. And if you ever doubt that you’re a good queen, ask me and I’ll tell you a million ways you’re a good one.”

 

She pushed herself up and cupped his face as her lips found his. “Take me to bed, my King.” 

 

Jon stood and helped her up, then they walked into their bedroom. He arranged the pillows as she liked them and let her lay down before he settled against the headboard and brushed his fingers over the bare skin of her head. 

 

“Are you not going to make love to me?” she asked.

 

He sighed, then groaned. “I would love nothing more, but Dari told me that with the last couple days, it could cause you to go into labor. It’s not time for our girls to meet us, yet.”

 

She wrapped an arm around his waist. “No, it’s not. I hope they look like you,” she said softly. “Dark eyes and hair. True Northern beauties.”

 

He played with her fingers before entwining his own with hers. “I think we have a better chance of them looking like true Targaryens.” He groaned again. “Every man and boy in the realm will be seeking their attention. I’ll have to kill them all,” he whispered.

 

She laughed and squeezed him tighter. “How I love you, Jon Snow.”

 

“How I love you, my  _ queen _ . My love. My Dany.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And as I know there will be people complaining at Dany's anger towards Jaime, it's not really **at** him. It's her grief clouding her. I once had someone tell me that my grandmother was in a better place and I yelled at her that I was selfish and wanted her with me. That woman meant me no harm, but I yelled at her all the same. Also, keep in mind that Daenerys is very pregnant at this point. She's dealing with the trauma of losing one of her best friends, her brother, and dealing with looking at the future without him at her side. 
> 
> And yes, some of you will also go "I knew it! Jaime is going to Casterly Rock," keep in mind that she only asked him to stay for the coronation and he is trying to find his way in the world. He never envisioned life after this, as he told the hound, and not only is he having to take all of it in, but he's the last of his house, his brother and sister gone. Don't make assumptions.


	85. Jon XV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets an early morning signal that something big has happened. The King and Queen greet their people. They learn of the attack at Storm's End. Tyrion is put to rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings everyone! The gorgeous mood board was made by the lovely, talented, and wonderful justwanderingneverlost. She also did the beta job on this chapter! She's amazing. You guys don't even know how much.
> 
> So, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Jaime and Dany's chapters really drained me. Like I was a crying mess in the middle of them. This one I thought would be easier. It wasn't. Still had me weepy mess by the end.

**JON**

He cradled the precious cargo in his arms, finding they were almost too big for him to carry all at once. But as the sun peeked over the horizon, he wondered if this would brighten the world for her just a bit. 

  


The ringing in his head hadn’t stopped since the night before. A voice in his mind, continuing its call until he was forced from the bed. He had donned his boots and even his cloak, leaving a kiss atop Daenerys’ head before he grabbed Longclaw and marched from their chamber. He hadn’t known where he was going or why; just a twisting in his gut and a calling in his mind as guides.

  


He had stumbled out into the garden, the world dark except for the braziers lighting the path. The call growing stronger and stronger until he reached Rhaegal perched on the terrace. Unlike the other times he’d seen the green dragon recently, he was still, not writhing around on the ground. He lifted his giant head and nudged Jon as he approached. Jon reached out a hand to the dragon that allowed him to ride on him. He felt Rhaegal’s concern for Daenerys traveling through their bond. He missed her. He worried about her. His mother was still in bed, the last week had taken its toll on her. She was exhausted, mentally, physically, emotionally, and he worried about her constantly. It was one of the reasons that sleep had eluded him since the explosion at the inn. He paced and worried. 

  


A different kind of worry had plagued his mind that night, calling him. Rhaegal hadn’t made a sound the entire evening, but now he tittered as Jon stroked over him. “Are you what’s been worrying me, tonight?” he whispered to the dragon. Rhaegal tilted his head at him and Jon was reminded how intelligent dragons could be as he was certain the creature understood him. The dragon moved his wing, even shifted his tail and that’s when he saw them, sparkling in the light of the braziers. His hand stilled on the dragon as he took in the four eggs settled against Rhaegal’s tail. 

  


He looked up at the dragon, locking eyes with him for a moment, feeling that tingling sensation in his mind.  _ Her _ . Jon moved forward and knelt on the ground, hesitating to touch them, fearing this was all some dream and he would awake at any moment. They knew that Rhaegal was going to have eggs, but the suddenness of it, and how quiet it had been, startled him. He couldn’t believe he was actually looking at four pristine dragon eggs. The flash in his mind hit him again.  _ Her _ . Jon glanced up at Rhaegal who was still watching him, intently. He removed both of his gloves, tucking them into his sword belt, then reached down, picking up one with the gentlest of care. It was a deep purple, but as he examined it in his hands, he could see the silver streaks etched throughout. 

  


Rhaegal nudged him with his head and Jon looked up at the dragon and gave him a nod. He collected the other three eggs, wrapping them carefully in his cloak. He would examine them further when they were safely in the keep. As he wrapped his arms around them, he climbed to his feet. Seemingly satisfied, Rhaegal flew away into the predawn morning and Jon rushed back inside, careful not to jostle the eggs too much. 

  


The Unsullied guards opened the chamber doors for him when they realized his arms were full. He crept inside, Ghost jumping from the bed and circling around him as he made his way to her. She was still resting on her side, a pillow tucked beneath her belly, one between her legs and the blanket pushed down to her feet. He carefully lay the four eggs on his side of the bed then walked to the windows and opened them, allowing some of the ocean air into the room. 

  


Just as he knew she would, she stirred, her eyes opening to him. “You’re dressed,” she murmured, reaching out for him. he took her hand in his. 

  


He took her hand in his and placed a kiss on the back of it. “You know how I get when I can’t sleep.”

  


She nodded. “You pace,” she said with a yawn. “You can come back and lay with me.”

  


He tugged on her hand. “Actually, sit up.”

  


She wrinkled her nose but allowed him to help her up. Her gasp filled the room as she put a hand to her mouth, the other covering her belly. “Are those Rhaegal’s?”

  


He nodded. “I kept feeling this...itch. Something calling me outside,” he whispered and moved each egg closer to her. “I finally relented and...I don’t know what your connection to Drogon feels like, but it’s like my feet knew where to go even if I didn’t. I got to Rhaegal and he was...still.”

  


Her eyes caught his, both understanding the significance of that. Rhaegal hadn’t been resting in quite some time. Since before they left Winterfell. “He moved his wing and there they were.  _ Her _ . That’s all I could hear. When I touched them...when I finally held all of them, he flew off to Drogon. I think he wanted me to bring them to his mother.”

  


She let out a sob and shook her head, reaching out to touch each one. He watched her reverence, her fingers stroking them. Her eyes watered as she picked up the purple egg, then looked around the room. She settled it back down amongst the others then walked to the lit hearth and to his amazement, no matter how many times he saw her deal with fire he still could barely believe it, she reached her hands into the flames and arranged the logs. He knew without her saying a word to take them to her, so he did. She placed each one into the flames and sat perched on her knees staring at them. Tears slid down her face as she reached out a hand to touch the light blue one. “That’s the color Viserion was when he died. The icy cold of the spell he was under made him this color.”

  


Jon sat back onto the floor and propped his arms on his raised knees. “He wasn’t your son, then.”

  


She lowered her head and glanced at him over her shoulder. “It still hurt to see him fall.” She shook her head. “Everything hurts, Jon. I thought when we finally took King’s Landing that everything would fall into place and we would have an idea of how to rule and what to do.”

  


He heaved a sigh. “We have an  _ idea _ of what we want to do. We can make it work.” He watched her, worried about the emotional toll that all of this was wreaking on her. The explosion, losing Tyrion, and now the dragon eggs and fears for the future. He reached out and held her hand in his. “You tell me all the time that I don’t have to carry it all alone on my shoulders. Neither do you.”

  


She turned watery eyes to look at him, then crawled across the space between them and settled into his arms. “Four new dragons.”

  


He took a deep breath. “You did that, you know? You brought dragons back into the world in the first place.”

  


She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “Jorah was there. He thought I was walking to my death when I walked into that pyre.”

  


“You knew before you walked into it that the fire wouldn’t hurt you, right?”

  


She nodded. “I didn’t feel...heat. I couldn’t be burned. I once set one of the eggs in a brazier. My handmaiden, Irri, panicked when I picked up the egg. She snatched it from my hands. Hers were blistered and burnt. Mine weren’t,” she said softly. She shook her head and nuzzled against his neck. “I never could have imagined that surviving that, all of it, would reward me with you.”

  


He pressed his lips against her temple and lingered there. “Believe me when I say that coming back from the dead... this never seemed a possibility for me.”

  


She tugged his arms around her tighter. “I’m so glad you did, though. I love you, trust you. There is no one else I would rather have at my side as my husband, my king, than you.”

  


He shook his head. “This is all because of you, Dany. You came to the North and fought the true fight. I’ll do my best to make sure that history remembers that. A true Targaryen Queen rode in on her dragon and saved a realm of fools.”

  


“What about you? A secret Targaryen King, hidden amongst wolves, fought the Night King with his famed sword and won? That’s quite a tale, my love.”

  


“I like it when our stories met.”

  


She smiled. “I like that part, too.”

  


*~*

  


He placed a kiss on Daenerys’ cheek, where she was tucked into bed once more. He pulled on the jerkin that had been delivered to him that morning. Black to honor his Targaryen heritage and the silver trim to honor the Stark. Missandei had told him that Dany had requested it made for him in secret. It was much cooler than his heavy northern cloak. He left her still sleeping, with word from the guard to let her know when she awoke that he’d be in the Great Hall.

  


He walked along the corridor and was soon joined by Davos, who was also wearing a new garment. “I see she’s been busy trying to dress the court.”

  


“That, and it’s bleeding hot,” Davos responded. “How is she?”

  


“Devastated. How is the pyre coming along?”

  


“Will be ready by nightfall,” he said with a solemn look.

  


He stopped walking as did Davos. “Dany and I spoke. If you would, we’d ask you to be our hand.”

  


Davos was silent for a beat, then gave him a smile. “I would be honored. Someone has to stick around to make sure you two stay alive.”

  


Jon shook his head, a small smile on his face. “Let’s hope there’s no more of that.”

  


“Yes, Your Grace. Let’s hope.”

  


They took up their walk again and soon reached the throne room. To his shock, most of the glass in the windows was missing. He furrowed his brow as he looked at Davos. The older man gave him a shrug. “We couldn’t have the two of you ascend to the throne with the Lannister lion still decorating the windows.”

  


“The Targaryen dragon, then,” he said softly.

  


“Actually, Missandei and I were speaking. We came up with...something different.”

  


“What?” Jon asked, wondering what the two were up to. 

  


Davos smiled and lowered his head. “I’m afraid it will have to be a surprise. Missandei insisted.”

  


He tilted his head, examining the older man. “Very well. If the Queen doesn’t like it, though...”

  


“I’ll take full blame, Your Grace.”

  


Jon turned his attention to the Iron Throne, standing in front of it, folding his arms as he looked up at it. “All that death and destruction over this?” he said with a shake of his head.

  


“Over what it represents, Your Grace. You and our queen will bring peace. Your children will carry on that peace.”

  


Jon looked around to see if anyone was around to overhear their conversation. When he realized that the nearest person was half the room away, he spoke softly, “Rhaegal left four eggs this morning. I took them to Daenerys and they’re currently resting in our hearth.”

  


Davos’ bushy eyebrows rose skyward. “Four? Four more dragons,” he whispered. “Perhaps we should look into repairs to the Dragon Pit.”

  


“No,” Jon answered, firmly. He recalled his conversation with Daenerys all those months ago, locking the dragons away had caused them to wither and die. That wouldn’t happen as long as he was around to ensure their safety. “We won’t lock them up ever again.” At the concerned looked on his Hand's face, Jon felt the need to elaborate. “Containment is what made them small and weak.”

  


“Dragons in the hands of you and the queen are formidable weapons for good. But can you tell me you think the kingdom would have been better off if Aerys had one?”

  


Jon sighed, knowing the truth. “No. But maybe my father would have lived.”

  


“And maybe everyone in the kingdom would have burned for Aerys madness. Don’t look back on the past and think of how you could have changed things. Change them as they are now. Six dragons flying over this kingdom could pose a problem.”

  


“Then again, it could keep people at bay.”

  


“What sort of people?”

  


Jon folded his arms over his chest. “I know the Iron Bank supported Stannis and his claim to the throne. But they didn’t get their money back with that one. Cersei used the crown’s funds to pay for the Golden Company. But she borrowed that money from the Iron Bank. They don’t care who is in power. They’ll expect their debt to be paid.” He looked around and shook his head. “We don’t even know the sort of assets the crown has. But perhaps they’ll be less likely to act if we have two full-grown dragons and four smaller ones, still capable of causing destruction.”

  


Davos sighed. “As you said, we don’t yet know the current state of the finances. We’ll need to get someone shrewd who understands numbers.”

  


“Have Varys help you. More likely he’d know who we would be able to trust.”

  


“Yes, Your Grace.”

  


Jon smirked and shook his head. “I don’t think I will ever get used to you calling me that.”

  


“King Jon? I can go back to calling you Lord Commander if you wish,” the older man japed. 

  


“Seems like a lifetime ago.” 

  


The door to their right opened and Daenerys entered the room, flanked by two Unsullied guards. She was wearing a black dress and cape, the hood pulled over her head. He smiled at her, glad to see her up and about. He took her hand in his as she reached him and placed a kiss on the back of it. 

  


“It takes less time for me to get dressed since my hair is no longer an issue,” she said as she lowered her eyes.

  


Jon looked at Davos. “Excuse us.”

  


“Of course,” he responded and stepped away from them as Daenerys took in the missing glass and the various people working around the hall. 

  


“Daenerys,” he whispered and she looked up at him, a bit of fear in her eyes. He didn’t understand that. Was she afraid of him? How could she be after all this time? He was afraid to ask her, afraid to have her confirm that now that she had what she always wanted, he wasn’t going to be part of that. “Did you rest well?”

  


She shook her head. “I never sleep well when you aren’t beside me. I need to find some way to keep you in my bed.”

  


He gave her a small smile and kissed the back of her fingers again. “I’m sorry I left. I wanted to let you rest,” he said softly. “Believe me when I say that I would rather stay in bed with you than do anything else.”

  


She gave him a small smile then looked around the hall and frowned. “Where are the windows?”

  


“They’ve removed the Lannister sigil. I’ve been told that they have something special in mind. A surprise from Davos and Missandei.”

  


She looped her hand through his arm. “Let’s go out to greet our people.”

  


“Are you sure?”

  


She nodded. “Yes. I need to remind myself why we did this. That the sacrifices that were made were for a greater purpose,” her voice broke and he pulled her closer, holding her for a few moments. All that had been lost and she was still pushing forward. He did worry that she was doing it to push the tragedy of Tyrion’s death out of her mind, trying to think of anything other than her lost friend. But then, he welcomed the distraction as well. 

  


“And the eggs?”

  


“The Unsullied guard them.”

  


Jon was appeased by that and led his wife out of the great hall and through the open courtyard that had the map of Westeros painted over the floor. She stood in the center and sighed as she looked around. “The world is much bigger than this,” she said softly. “Essos, YiTi, Naath...” she looked up at him and wrinkled her brow. “You allowed the Wildlings beyond the Wall. I brought the Dothraki and Unsullied with me.”

  


He nodded, following her thoughts. “We’ll work to unite the world. Welcome those from other places. Make others realize that in a lot of cases it’s only location that divides us.”

  


She gave him a smile and nodded. “Some of the Lords and people here will be against it,” she said, tilting her head as she linked her arm through his. 

  


“We’ll lead by example. Send out word to other countries and islands that we welcome diplomats to open conversation. Possible trade.”

  


As they exited to the breezeway, she stopped for a moment and looked at him, taking a deep breath. “I love you.”

  


His face softened as he looked upon her worried expression. He removed her hood and placed a kiss on her lips. “And I love you.”

  


She took another steadying breath and released, her face transforming into her serene queenly visage. “I’m ready.”

  


*~*

  


Daenerys sat amongst the children of the orphanage, one dark-haired little boy on her lap as she listened to him tell how his mother had put him there after his father had sailed off with Euron’s fleet. Jon looked around, noting the curious faces and wondered if they had enough food, clothing, beds. If they were safe. 

  


The matron leaned over and whispered in Jon’s ear. “His mother told me she was dying. She wanted him here before that happened so she could say goodbye while she was still well.”

  


Jon looked up at her and gave her a slight nod. 

  


“And are the others treating you well?” Daenerys asked him.

  


The little boy nodded enthusiastically. “Thomas shares his food wit me sometimes!”

  


Daenerys smiled. “And who is Thomas?”

  


A little boy with sandy blonde hair raised his hand. He was seated toward the back and Daenerys bid him come forward. He made quick bows to them both, Jon hiding a smile behind his hand. “That is very kind of you to do, Thomas,” Jon said.

  


“The bigger ones have ta take care o tha little ones.”

  


Daenerys nodded with a smile. “We all get on better when we take care of each other.”

  


The little boy was quiet for a moment then blurted, “Are yur dragons gonna eat us?!”

  


A murmur filtered throughout the room and Jon could see the fear in their little faces. However, Daenerys raised her hand and the room fell quiet. “Drogon, the large black dragon, and Rhaegal, the green dragon, are my children. I hatched them in a fire,” she said as if she was telling them a secret. “They helped us fight off the dead and bring peace to the city. Do you think they would go through all that trouble just to eat you?”

  


Thomas tilted his head at her, his brow furrowed, his lips twisted in thought. “I don’t think so.”

  


Jon smiled. “The dragons like to fly and hunt in the woods. I don’t think you have to worry about them.”

  


“And do you really ride em?”

  


Jon nodded. “I ride Rhaegal and the Queen rides Drogon.”

  


“Is it scary?”

  


He chuckled. “Almost as scary as standing on top of the Wall for the first time.”

  


Thomas looked at Jon’s sword and tilted his head as he examined it. “Is that a wolf?”

  


Daenerys answered before he could. “The Direwolf is the sigil of House Stark. It’s the sword that helped Jon kill the Night King.”

  


Several of the children gasped. “The Night King is a story!” one of them exclaimed.

  


Jon sighed. “The Night King was very real. But he’s gone, now. The Queen, the dragons, and our armies helped defeat him and  _ his _ army.”

  


“And you used that sword?”

  


Jon stood and pulled it from its sheath, and held it horizontal in his hands. “The sword is named Longclaw. It was given to me by Lord Commander Mormont,” he replied. “It’s Valyrian steel which means it’s always sharp.”

  


“Can I touch it?”

  


Jon resheathed it with a chuckle. “No. You touch it and cut yourself and people will think I’m a bad king.”

  


Daenerys smiled up at him as she let the little boy climb from her lap. He held out his hand to her. “Now, we expect all of you to behave,” he told them, helping her stand.

  


Little heads nodded as Jon signaled for the matron to follow them. When out of earshot of the children he looked at his wife, sharing a silent thought. He turned to matron. “What do you need from us?”

  


The older woman looked at the children and she gave a heavy sigh. “Some repairs to the building. Food. Clothes...the last queen cared nothing about them. Queen Margaery did, but even she seemed distracted towards the end. We’ve accumulated more orphans than we have room to keep.”

  


Daenerys spoke first. “We’ll have tailors begin work on clothes for the children and cobblers on shoes. We’ll also make sure that food is delivered here on a weekly basis for meals throughout the week,” she took a breath and looked to Jon. He felt the weight of what they were working with and against settle between them. 

  


“We’ll also send a request to the Citadel for a Maester specifically for this place. They should grow up with an education and someone to look after their health,” he added. 

  


The smile on Dany’s face melted him. “Until then,” she said as she turned back to the woman. “We’ll ask around for someone who can do the repairs to your building and should you need more room, we’ll try to find somewhere bigger to house you all. And please, come to the Keep, ask for Missandei should you need anything. She will be the one to get you an audience with us. And we would like to see you if you need anything.”

  


The surprise on the woman’s face melted into a watery smile and she bowed at both of them.  “Thank you, Your Graces,” she said and looked back at the children. Jon noticed that the room was still watching them in fascination. “The children will speak of this day for a long time.”

  


Jon gave her a nod before following Daenerys out into the street. He helped her mount her horse, she was still refusing to ride in a carriage. The Unsullied marched beside them as they rode through the street and back toward the keep. People had lined the streets with Targaryen banners and cheered them as they walked through. They stopped outside the Red Keep, their horses taken away as some of the people came closer for a glimpse at their new King and Queen. 

  


Daenerys’s voice silenced the chatter, “Spread the word that tonight we lay to rest a hero of Westeros, my Hand, Tyrion Lannister. Come to the ruins where the Sept of Balor once stood and see his pyre and pay respects to the man who once saved this city and who helped unite this kingdom against its enemies.”

  


She turned to face Jon and he offered his arm. They reentered the keep and were met by Sam. “Raven from Storm’s End,” he said, offering it out.

  


Jon took it and broke the seal. He took a deep breath and scowled. “Gendry and Arya were attacked by Faceless Men.” He looked up at her. “Gendry was stabbed three times with a poisoned blade.”

  


Daenerys gripped his arm tighter. “Are they alright? Gendry?”

  


He heaved a sigh. “Arya said that they managed to stop the poison.” He shook his head and ran a hand down his face. “It’s bad enough dealing with an enemy you know is real. But how would you be able to trust even your lover if those faceless assassins are lurking around?”

  


Daenerys frowned. “You wouldn’t. We put them in danger,” she whispered.

  


Jon wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Let's send some of the Unsullied to Storm’s End if they want to go.” He took a deep breath and kissed her brow. “We need to go to our room and talk.”

  


She nodded and allowed him to lead her, smoothing her hands over the swell of her stomach. The Unsullied guards opened the door for them and she immediately went to the hearth to check on the eggs as he noticed Ghost was lying across the foot of the bed. He removed his cloak, draping it over a chair. She walked away from the hearth and took a seat at the table across from him. She removed her cloak and the sight of her reminded him that she was still mending from wounds. He pulled his chair closer and turned her head to allow him to look at her stitches. “No more headaches?”

  


“No,” she said as she took his hand. “I’m feeling fine, physically. Just tired. It’s my heart that hurts,” she whispered and turned to look at the hearth. “I know how to wake the eggs, Jon.”

  


He glanced at them and back at her. “I’m listening.”

  


“We’ll put them on Tyrion’s pyre,” she declared. “Only death can pay for life.” He let out a slight laugh, feeling the pain of the statement but seeing the humor at the same time. 

  


Her pained expression turned to one of confusion. “Are you laughing at me?”

  


He shook his head, lowering his eyes to look at his fidgeting hands. “No. I feel Tyrion’s loss greatly. He was one of the first people to ever be truly honest with me about the world and what I was signing up for. He never walked away from telling me the truth and I always,  _ always _ respected him. He was a brilliant man and having him believe that I would be a good king and someone worthy of being at your side meant...” He shook his head unable to finish his sentence. He collected himself and looked up at her, again. “Imagine him looking upon us speaking of him so highly. And then imagine if his sacrifice, his life, is the one that helps breathe more dragons into the world. We wouldn’t be able to shut him up about it.”

  


She gave him a watery chuckle and nodded. “He’d be nearly impossible to be around.”

  


“Lord it over all of us until we pitched him out of the room,” he said, the sadness creeping back in. “How many things would he be telling us we’re doing wrong, you think?”

  


Daenerys smiled and took his hand. “A lot, probably. But we have Davos, Missandei, and Varys. We have people we can trust to help us make the world better.”

  


“We have each other, too,” he said squeezing her hand. “We’re going to fix this world, Dany, and if we can’t get it done during our lifetime, then we’ll prepare our daughters to do so.”

  


She gave a smile. “I love you.”

  


He kissed the back of her fingers. “I love you, too.”

  


*~*

  


They stood at the edge of the pyre. She'd brought the eggs in a basket, carrying it in her arms. She handed it to him. “Can you put them on there for me? I can’t reach.”

  


He placed a kiss on her head. “I’m not much taller than you,” he whispered.

  


She smirked. “You’re tall enough,” she replied. 

  


He placed the eggs above Tyrion’s head and looked down at the man once more. He felt a deep ache in his heart and sighed. “Thank you, my friend.”

  


He returned to Daenerys. Jaime stood at her side, leaning on a crutch. “Your brother and I didn’t always agree, but that’s why I chose him as my Hand. He cared about what happened to people,” she said to him and he watched as tears rolled down Jaime’s face. “I will let you light the pyre, or I could let the dragons do it.”

  


He took a moment, looking at her and Jon, both waiting for his decision. “Tyrion had a flair for the dramatic. Let the dragons do it.”

  


Daenerys nodded and soon both dragons were on the ground, the people gathered looked terrified but awed at the same time. “A great sept once stood here. Built to worship the seven gods. And a queen destroyed it for ambition,” Daenerys’s voice carried over the murmur of the people. “Tyrion Lannister came to me after he fled King’s Landing. He didn’t agree with everything I said, he challenged my opinions and thoughts of what Westeros was. And it was because of this that I made him an advisor, and then my Hand.” Jon was amazed she was holding it together so well.

  


She took a deep breath. “When I first landed in Westeros, I wanted to fly my dragons to the Red Keep and burn it and everyone inside. Tyrion cautioned me not to do that. He reminded me that I didn’t want to rule the ashes. That the people were innocent and didn’t deserve such a fate.” She looked out over the masses. “Tyrion cared about what happened to you. He wanted you to have better lives. I respected him as my Hand and I loved him as a brother. This world has gone darker without him in it. The King and I will do everything in our power to make sure the dream of giving you that better life comes true.”

  


She took Jon’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “It is custom among the Dothraki and the Wildings to burn bodies and send them to the heavens as a warrior tribute. No one deserves it more than Tyrion.” She looked at Drogon, then Rhaegal. “Dracarys.”

  


A small burst of flame came from each dragon and lit the outer circle. Daenerys took off her cape and handed it to Jon. She pressed a kiss to his lips and started walking to the pyre, but his hand caught her wrist. “What are you doing?”

  


She reached up and cupped his face. “I’m going in to get my children,” she whispered. “Stay here until the fire burns away.”

  


“I’ve seen you walk through enough fire, Daenerys.”

  


“It won’t hurt me. Trust me, my love.”

  


He couldn’t shake the fear that nearly choked him, but he released her and the people gasped to see her walk into the flames. 

  


Jaime moved closer to Jon. “How are you so calm watching her walk into another fire?”

  


“She lived through the others, didn’t she?” he answered. “Sometimes, when it comes to my wife, it’s best not to question the magic that flows through her veins.”

  


“What about your veins?”

  


He shook his head and looked down at the cloak draped over his arm. “She’s the one who brought dragons into the world, again. She is the Mother of Dragons. I have to let her be who she is.”

  


Jaime nodded and stared at the fire. “Thank you, for giving this to Tyrion. I wouldn’t want him buried in the tomb with my sister.”

  


Jon looked over at him and frowned. “No, I don’t imagine you would. Now, the world knows you’ll hold true to your word,” he said softly. “I’ll no longer allow people to disparage you by calling you Kingslayer.”

  


“Kinslayer. Queenslayer. Oathbreaker. All names I’ve earned.”

  


“Since you rode North, you’ve attempted, if not succeeded in keeping your word. I trust that you’ll continue to be someone we can trust, my Lord.”

  


“The heir of House Lannister pledges his loyalty to House Targaryen.”

  


Jon gave him a nod. “I believe you.”

  


*~*

  


As sunlight rose over the kingdom, the fire finally died away. The Unsullied and the Dothraki had stayed vigilant near the pyre. As did he, pacing until the last of the white smoke had drifted into the sky. Now they all stood, staring in awe.

  


There, in the middle of the burnt out pyre was his wife, a dragon nestled on her shoulder. Jon stepped over the smoldering ashes and held out his hand to her and helped her from the ground. The hatchling on her shoulder moved down her arm and over to his. 

  


The sound of metal all creaking at once echoed through the air as the Unsullied bent the knee. The Dothraki fell to their knees as well and bowed to her. Three other dragons crawled up and along her body as Drogon and Rhaegal screeched overhead. 

  


Jon looked up at the early morning sky to see them and noticed a red comet streaking across the dawn. Davos’s voice echoed over the murmurs of the townsfolk. “HOUSE TARGARYEN!  LONG MAY THEY REIGN!”   
  


“HOUSE TARGARYEN! LONG MAY THEY REIGN!” the people echoed back, cheering. Missandei provided her cloak, wrapping it around her naked body as Jon allowed the dragons to crawl from her to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Bran - yeah, we're gonna catch Winterfell up with the current timeline as I now have Arya/Gendry and Jon/Dany all along the same path. So, expect Bran, Sansa, and Meera for the next three chapters.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got more chapters coming.


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